


How a Romance Novel Saved the Galaxy

by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte)



Series: How a Romance Novel Saved the Galaxy [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: All The Tropes, Alternate Universe, Bandomeer, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Galidraan, Gen, Humor, Legends Qui-gon is a jerk, M/M, Mandalore, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Civil War, Mandalorian Culture, Multi, Obi-wan is 12 when this fic starts so don't expect the pairing for awhile, Panic Attacks, Poly Characters, Pre-Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Romance, ace characters, aces in space, aro characters, discussions of emotional abuse, it is known, jedi are mando bait, non-binary characters, punch qui-gon jinn 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 44
Words: 71,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianaDeralte/pseuds/Ariana%20Deralte
Summary: In one galaxy, the novel was never read. In another, it starts a landslide.Or what happens when the Mandalorians learn that the Jedi are exactly what most of them look for in a partner.
Relationships: Fay/Original Mandalorian character, Feemor/Arla Fett, Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jaster Mereel/Jocasta Nu, Jon Antilles/Original Mandalorian character, Mace Windu/Original Mandalorian character, Original Jedi characters/Original Mandalorian characters, Pre Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: How a Romance Novel Saved the Galaxy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044417
Comments: 6621
Kudos: 5082
Collections: Anything But Qui-Gon, Best in Fandom, Best of StarWars, Favorite Rereads, My heart is full, SW Especially Satisfying Stories, Star Wars, Where Books Change The Wolrd





	1. The intro

In another galaxy, the book was called _The Mandalorian and the Jedi_ , and was avoided like the plague by Mandalorians, Jedi and critics. It didn’t even make it on the top 10,000 bestseller list on Coruscant.

In this galaxy, it was called _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_. So when select Mandalorians from nobles to bounty hunters (including the current Mand’alor, Jaster Mereel) were sent a promotional copy, a fair proportion of them opened the book. They faced their own dilemma when they realized what it was about, but by then, an awful lot of Mandalorians were hooked, and the book was spreading. It was child’s play to program your buy’ce to display the text while you were standing guard, waiting for a bounty to show, or just bored in a cantina.

The book shot to the top of the bestseller list in Mandalorian space by the end of the month. By two months, it had been translated into Mando’a and was steadily climbing the Coruscant bestseller list. It was in the third month that the Jedi realized something in the galaxy had irrevocably changed.

++++++

Jedi Master Thilsa Akitho bared her lips in a not-so-silent snarl when her montrals warned her of someone entering the cave she and her padawan were sheltering in. It was a lapse of Jedi decorum on her part, but the shrapnel through her leg and the long splinter of durasteel lodged in her padawan’s stomach were fraying her control. The Kessurian tensed even further when a white Mandalorian helmet poked around the edge of the cave wall. Mandalorians were not exactly known for being friendly to Jedi.

“Uhm. May the Force be with you?” called an airy voice. This time there was no helmet that looked past the cave wall. Just a humanoid in yellow and green armor with a white helmet hooked to their belt. Her hair and makeup style indicated she was a woman of Ming Po descent. “I would like to help.”

Thilsa reached out with the Force and the woman did seem to be telling the truth, though there was a strange amount of satisfaction and exhilaration coming off the woman as she looked Thilsa and her padawan over.

“You are not with the smugglers?” Thilsa asked. All she could sense from the Mandalorian was amusement at the question.

“No. And you took care of them quite thoroughly all on your own. I’m sorry I came too late for the fight.” She was pouting. “Anyway, I brought my field kit, but while I think I can get you cleaned up, your ad’ike might be better off on my ship.”

Thilsa looked down at Kiro, who she had guided into a healing trance the moment they entered the cave in an effort to spare her some pain. Thilsa had ended up destroying the smuggler’s facilities and their ships in the battle. The nearest settlement was tens of kilometers away through difficult terrain. She would have to trust this Mandalorian. She gathered Kiro into her arms. She had wrapped the girl in her own robes after using her outer tunic as a bandage. It was an effort, but Thilsa used the Force as a crutch so she could stand.

“What shall I call you?” she asked.

“Briila Corrtel,” the Mandolorian said, an inexplicable flush spreading across her face.

“I am Jedi Master Thilsa Akitho and this is my padawan, Kiro. We would appreciate your help.”

“Su cuy’gar,” said Briila. Her eyes seemed caught on all the places where Thilsa’s under tunic was ripped, before she focused on her face. “That means “hello”. Let’s get your ad seen to!” She marched out of the cave and Thilsa bemusedly followed after.

++++++

_“The Jetii were their mortal enemies. They were also extremely competent warriors who fought like the ka’ra themselves were guiding them. Naured watched the Jedi, who had just singlehandedly defended the pass from 50 Mandalorians retreat to a rocky outcropping behind him and pull out a tiny Twilek ad who clung to the Jedi. The Jedi touched their forehead to the child’s. Naured suddenly wanted to be down there, to say kriff the mission. A light laugh from the child echoed off the cavern walls. The Jedi was smiling in the scope of Naured’s rifle._

_Naured was well and truly karked, wasn’t he?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several chapters are already written so I will be updating fairly regularly for awhile. The sections in italics at the end of chapters are excerpts from The Mandalorian Dilemma in case that wasn't obvious.


	2. Tholme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tholme babysits.

Tholme was undercover in a bar deep in the under city of Coruscant. Someone was trying to set up a slave trade ring here in the heart of the Republic, and the Jedi were going to bring it down. He was dressed as a successful smuggler. No sign of the Jedi on him except his lightsaber, and that was hidden in a special sleeve at the back of his neck which was covered by his hair. He hadn’t touched it in weeks, sadly. It would all be worth it if he could get some information on the slavers.

“Watch him, please. I will be back.” Suddenly, Tholme’s arms were full of a tiny zabrak toddler holding a plush Mandalorian. Beyond the toddler was a not so plush Mandalorian in silver and green armor who towered over Tholme.

“Wha-” Tholme started to say, but the Mando was already striding away. Tholme sighed. He had no idea how this would work with his cover ident, and was especially bewildered as to why a Mandalorian would entrust a complete stranger with his child, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have plenty of experience over the course of raising Quinlan.

“Didn’t know you were that friendly with the Mandos, Kirku,” said the Togrutan smuggler next to him. “Very friendly.”

“Quite,” said Tholme. He’d noticed his drink being drugged while he was pondering the toddler in his arms. Normally, he’d pretend to drink it and see where that got him, but that was off the table for the night.

The poor kid was blinking up at him sleepily, plush Mandalorian clutched tightly in the child’s arms. Every time the kid truly seemed to fall asleep, a loud laugh, discordant instruments from the music, or angry shouts would wake the poor youngling. Tholme sighed again before pulling the kid firmly against his chest and standing up. He pulled out his credit chip one handed to swipe it against the reader on a private booth against the wall. A transparent divider popped up once he was inside. Blessed silence. The booths were sound proofed for private conversations no one could over hear. And for a price, you could even buy the recordings off the bartender.

The toddler mumbled something in a language Tholme didn’t know and fell asleep. Tholme settled into a light trance.

A few hours later, the Mandalorian returned. There was a new blaster burn on the chest plate of their armor. “Good idea about the booth,” they said, sitting down on the edge of one of the seats. Tholme passed the youngling over, releasing his dismay at the loss of warmth and companionship into the Force.

Mandalorian body language was hard to read what with the full armor, but Tholme got a strange sense of bashfulness from the polite head nod the Mando gave him. “Thank you, jetii. I owe you one.”

Tholme only startled on the inside. “You know I’m a Jedi? Why did you leave a child with me?”

The Mandalorian hesitated, then explained to a baffled Tholme. “He’s only been mine for a short while, and I didn’t have time to make arrangements.”

That didn’t really answer Tholme’s question. “I was under the impression that Mandalorians dislike Jedi.”

“Jedi are like Mandalorians. You take care of all kids, regardless of their circumstances, or their species, right?”

Tholme would never have put it that way, but yes. “We do. Though that seems to be rarely understood outside of the Temple. I’ve been accused of baby stealing more than a few times.” He gave the Mandalorian a wry grin.

The Mandalorian was rigid in his seat. “That’s not right. I- We know that now.” Tholme got the strange impression that the Mando was angry on his behalf, though the beskar armor muffled his impressions through the Force.

“How did you know I was a Jedi?” He’d need to fix any tells.

Strangely, the Mandalorian tapped the side of his helmet. “It’s not very strong, but sometimes I hear the will of the ka’ra. Your Force. Your disguise is good, but you feel like a Jedi.” They were correct. Since Tholme wasn’t hunting darksiders he hadn’t been shielding fully in the Force. He’d need to shield better in the future.

“Thank you.” Tholme may as well ask. “Do you know anything about the new slaving ring being set up on these levels?”

“The Jedi will take it down?” asked the Mandalorian.

“It’s what we do,” said Tholme.

The Mandalorian nodded. “Good. I’m not being paid to hunt them, but I’ve observed some things.” They pulled out a pad and a transfer chip and fiddled with it for a good few minutes before handing the chip to Tholme. They stood up, the toddler still dead to the world in their arms. “Good luck, Jedi!”

Tholme palmed the chip into one of his many hidden pockets. He’d have to wipe the recordings from this booth, but he might finally have some info to send back to the Temple. He debated mentioning the odd behavior of the Mandalorian too, but surely it was only an aberration. It would be insane to think that the entirety of the Mandalorians had suddenly done an about face on the Jedi.

++++++

_“Hiam stood in front of Naured, both hands pushing against the now visible force of the explosion. It was so bright that Naured’s interior display darkened to protect his vision leaving Hiam a dark figure silhouetted in blinding light._

_The light died._

_Naured got shakily to his feet. There was a cone of pristine desert behind Hiam covering exactly where Naured had been thrown and where Kiri was still crouched. Outside of that circle was a light coating of glass on top of sand. Naured knew he should have been intimidated and while he was in awe, he was also very, very aroused.”_


	3. Jaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaster vs the Book

Jaster alternated between thinking of the Book (as mentioning it by name might summon its legion of fans) as a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because it got Mandalorians of all stripes, not just the True Mandalorians, embracing and even questioning their culture. It also led to Montross blowing his top in the middle of one of the True Mandalorians many heated debates on the Book and revealing his betrayal before he could stab Jaster in the back. It was a curse because half his people were now obsessed with the Jedi, and Mandalorians did obsession very well.

Case in point: his son Jango. Jaster had been contemplating handing the title of Mand’alor over to Jango since his son was desperate to run his own campaigns against Death Watch, and Jaster figured the only way Jango would get some experience at the politics of the position would be if he was thrust into it. But while Jango’s hatred of Death Watch burned strong, he was also devoting pretty much all his spare time to perusing the surprisingly thorough number of files that some enterprising Mandalorian had managed to hack off the Jedi Temple servers before being detected. Unlike most of the Mandalorians obsessed with the Jedi, who Jaster figured would be fine once they got it out of their systems one way or another (unless Jedi really _were_ as good at sex as the Book said, and then Jaster was karked), Jango was never going to back down from what he wanted. So Jaster owed it to his son to hang on to the title for a few more years so Jango had the freedom to find the Jedi riduur he had his heart set on.

The idea would have been ridiculous a few months ago before the Book, but now no one would bat an eye if the future Mand’alor married a Jedi. Well, except for the more extreme of Death Watch and the New Mandalorians. The Book had prompted a slow but steady trickle of defectors from the more moderate in both those factions. Many had turned to the True Mandalorians and Jaster’s Supercommando codex since it was the closest they could get to the ideals of the Mando’ade during the Mandalorian Wars, which was the time period from the Book. A time period Jaster had researched extensively when developing the Supercommando codex in the first place.

Jaster, a historian at heart, had already started researching precedent for Mandalorian Jedi (if only he could see what the Jedi had on Tarre Vizsla!), arguments for marriage being allowed within the current Jedi code, and a long letter to the author of the Book about how their armor and technology levels were very accurate to the Mandalorian Wars, but they really underestimated the role of the Revanchists in favor of the romance. Jaster had some suggestions to make the sequel align more with history.

++++++

_“The desert was dangerously cold at night and they couldn’t afford to light a fire. Naured placed the tip of his blaster at the side of the boulder that was their shelter. Low, steady fire had the stone heated and warm. He hesitated a moment. Taking off his armor in front of a jetii was anathema, but he had already done worse this past day. The cold beskar would be freezing in the night air. It went in a pile beside the rock._

_Kiri was already asleep with only her nose peeking out of the bundle of the jetii’s robes. He placed her against one warm side of the boulder. The jetii was kneeling in the sand, eyes closed and breath steady. He didn’t seem aware that he was shivering._

_“I’ve made a warm spot for us. We’ll have to huddle together with the ad’ika, but we should make it through the night,” Naured said._

_The jetii blinked pale, gray eyes up at him._

_Naured held out his hand._

_The jetii took it.”_


	4. Jon Antilles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jon Antilles is confused.

Jedi Master Jon Antilles was beginning to feel a bit hunted. It was absurd really since he had just managed an entire week of rest on a pastoral Outer Rim world without the Force prodding him off onto another mission. The Force was calm, and it seemed to just be ignoring the fact that every single mission it had sent him on in the past few months, Mandalorian bounty hunters had eventually shown up. He had made a lot of enemies in his time infiltrating the Bounty Hunters’ Guild. It wouldn’t surprise him in the least that some of their family or friends wanted revenge, or that they’d hire Mandalorians to do it.

Except none of these bounty hunters had made a move to capture him or fight him. Sith hells. He had spotted some of them fighting _each other_ in some sort of (serious, but friendly the Force told him) wrestling match after he had finished taking out a nasty group of pirates who had situated themselves inside cliffs overlooking a spaceport. Jon had used the Force to lift himself up to the entrances to their secret hangars, then ended up fighting half the battle mid-air since the pirates had both small ships for attacks and hooved creatures with giant horns that climbed nimbly along the cliffs like they were on flat land.

Now wherever he went, he could feel the stares of Mandalorians on his back. They always seemed to show up when he was fighting! He was beginning to wonder if he should talk to one of them and find out what was going on since the Force had declined to tell him anything other than that they weren’t a threat.

His lightsaber was up and ignited without a single thought, the poison dart heading for his back, incinerated. There was a spark of alarm from the shooter that Jon followed unerringly to the top of a mud brick building on the planet, Washuu. He destroyed the dart gun before using the Force to hold the native Washuurian half way off the side of the building.

“Is there a reason you’re trying to kill me?” he asked. A lot of following the Force’s will involved going where it sent him and then figuring out just what he was supposed to do. It was amazing how many of his Force assigned missions began with someone trying to kill him. Come to think of it, he was pretty sure the Temple currently thought he was dead due to the last one.

“I wasn’t told exactly,” mumbled the Washuurian. Their tusks made it sound like they were chewing on gravel when they talked. “But it was the governor’s second who hired me. It’s just a job. Please don’t kill me.”

Jon never intended to, but it was best not to let him know that. “Very well. In return, you will turn down any jobs which ask you to kill others. You may be a criminal, but you aren’t an assassin. Understood?” The Washuurian assured him he was so Jon let him go, mind already planning how to investigate the governor. Time to visit the local cantinas.

++++++

_“Hiam had no idea how beautiful he was, scars and all. Moments of war etched into his flesh. Naured applied himself to mapping out each one with his tongue, grinning into Hiam’s skin when the man began to groan and offer more of himself to Naured’s systematic attention.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter as my treat to you all on this stressful election day (if you are in the US and can, please vote!).
> 
> I have actual work to do for the next few days so no new chapter until after Friday. Answers to comments will be sporadic so a preliminary 'thank you' to all:D As one of you put it, you are giving me all the serotonin and I've written three chapters in two days lol


	5. Bandomeer Pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a Mandalorian has the misfortune of meeting Qui-gon Jinn (and the joy of meeting 12 year old Obi-wan Kenobi).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to reread the first two Jedi Apprentice books for these chapters. So much bby!Obi-wan angst. So much Qui-gon Jinn being a dick.

Holdan had the worst luck. He’d been intrigued by what he read about the Jedi in _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_. He wasn’t obsessed like some he could name, but it had perked his interest enough to follow after a tall, somewhat scruffy looking Jedi. He wasn’t after a riduur, but wouldn’t be adverse to finding out if Jedi were as good in bed as the book had said.

Getting a berth on the transport was no problem, but that was where Holdan’s luck had run out. First, the Monument was too large. Its thousands of passengers made it hard for Holdan to easily find and encounter the Jedi. Second, it was infested not just with Hutts (which was bad enough!) but Whiphids and Arconans as well. Holdan was afraid to take his helmet off. The smell must be truly overwhelming with both Hutts and Whiphids involved. Third, there was a massive rivalry going on between the miners from Offworld and Arcona which was consuming the ship. Fourth, there was apparently a Jedi ad somewhere on board who had gotten lost.

The jet’ika hadn’t been with the adult Jedi, and though, hopefully, they’d met up by now, Holdan was as concerned as the ship’s crew with finding the kid. He was then frustrated to learn the kid had been found, but had been nearly strangled to death by a Hutt.

“Wait. You left the jet’ika alone after he was attacked?” he demanded from the woman who led the Arcona miners.

“He was treated by a med droid first,” she said. Normally, he’d admire the way she didn’t back down, but this was a traumatized child she’d left unsupervised.

“Show me where he is,” he ordered.

It was a good thing he did. The jet’ika was burning up with a fever. That med droid wasn’t even worth its weight in scrap metal. He rushed him to the ship’s actual med bay, then listened with growing worry to the medic’s report. The jet’ika needed treatment for an infection and the ship was too cheap to keep bacta on hand. Holdan was cursing the whole way from his room and back again as he fetched his own supply.

He retreated out of the way to watch them apply the bacta and put the kid on fluids. That was when the Jedi finally found the ad. Holdan expected for the Jedi to be relieved at finding his ad safe, or maybe angry at his poor treatment. Instead, the Jedi just looked annoyed, then resigned. He approached the medics, then placed his hand on the boy’s head. Maybe he was using the Force? He must have been because several long minutes later, the boy woke up and looked at the Jedi like he was the only hope in his world. The Jedi, in contrast, stopped touching the boy and backed away.

The boy’s voice was a near whisper that even his buy’ce’s sensors couldn’t pick up, but he could hear the Jedi’s responses. At first the Jedi was gentle and reassuring, but then he told the boy, Obi-wan, some nonsense that they were on different paths and Obi-wan should forget about him. The ad only let his despair show for a bare moment before he was attempting to be mature and accepting of the karking Jedi rejecting him!

Holdan was so confused. He knew for a fact that other Mando’ade were returning with favorable tales about their encounters with Jedi. Tales which confirmed the appealing picture painted of them by _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_. But here was this underage child (if he was 13, Holdan would eat his pauldron!) being told to shove off by an adult Jedi.

A young Arconan came into the room and Holdan was relieved to see that both he and the Jedi were smiling at the Arconan’s hero worship for Obi-wan. When the elder Jedi turned away so as to hide his smile from the boy, he finally saw Holdan sitting in the corner and twitched quite noticeably. Holdan smirked under his buy’ce.

“Obi-wan. What is a Mandalorian doing here?” he had time to ask before the Arconan miner woman strode in and derailed the whole conversation. What followed was a discussion of sabotage, more about mining than he wanted to know, and an encounter with Jemba the Hutt. The Jedi absolutely forbid Obi-wan from looking for the missing equipment and was about to head out of the room before he noticed Holdan again. Maybe Holdan should add some bright orange to his armor since the black and brown clearly weren’t standing out?

“What is your purpose going to Bandomeer?” the Jedi asked. Oh right, that’s where the transport was going. Well, Holdan certainly wasn’t going to admit that he’d been thinking with his other head, and now was so turned off by the Jedi’s treatment of the ad, all he was thinking about was adoption.

“My name is Holdan. And you are?” he asked to stall for time.

“Jedi Master Qui-gon Jinn.” The Jedi gave the barest tilt of his head.

“Well, Jinn, I have business there, though nothing to do with this mining osik.”

“And your _business_ in this infirmary?”

Should have known he couldn’t properly lie to Jedi. “I brought bacta for the kid.”

“You did?” asked Obi-wan in surprise. “Thank you!”

“It was no problem.”

“Mandalorians don’t usually care for Jedi,” said Jinn, his tone striving for neutrality but falling a bit short.

“Any Mandalorian who wouldn’t help a hurt kid isn’t a Mandalorian,” said Holdan flatly.

Jinn seemed torn between interrogating him further and going off to do his own investigation of the mining sabotage. After a moment, the sabotage won. He reminded Obi-wan to once again stay in bed and heal, then the Jedi left.

Obi-wan, of course, immediately went to pull the tubes out of his arms and get out of bed. Holdan rushed over and gently pulled his hands away from the tubes. “You need a medic to clear you first, Ob’ika.”

“What I need is to find out who sabotaged those tunnelers,” said Obi-wan.

“Why?” Holdan took the opportunity to take off his helmet so the kid could see him (and if the book was to be believed, sense him).

“What do you mean, why? Because I need to help the miners. They could have been hurt.”

“Isn’t that Jinn’s mission here? To help the miners with their dispute? He said you had a separate mission.”

Obi-wan looked down at his hands. “I’ve been assigned to the AgriCorps on Bandomeer,” he said in a small voice. Even the Arconan seemed to sense the boy’s misery and put a consoling hand on Obi-wan’s arm.

“What’s an AgriCorps?” asked Holdan, trying to understand.

“There are different service corps where Jedi who fail to be chosen as padawans get sent. The AgriCorps grows plants and food. I need to prepare to be a farmer.” His voice wavered at the end like he was trying not the cry. The ad was what, eleven, twelve? And he was breaking Holdan’s heart here.

“Is it a permanent posting?” he asked, still trying to figure out what was going on.

The boy nodded. “Yes.”

“And you’re what age?”

“Twelve. I’ll be thirteen in four weeks.”

“So they sent you, an underage kid alone on a, frankly, extremely dangerous journey to a job you don’t want? One where you won’t even be a Jedi?”

“I’m still a Jedi,” said the boy fiercely. “But I won’t be a Jedi Knight.” Holdan honestly hoped the kid didn’t start crying because Holdan would be joining him in that case. It was so clear that the ad wanted nothing more in the world than to be a Jedi warrior. He burned with such mandokarla that Holdan was already planning far beyond adopting him. He’d find a Jedi riduur who didn’t like romance, if that was what it took. Ob’ika would be a Jedi knight if Holdan had any say in it.

“Is it common for the Jedi to just send their ade off?”

“Ade?”

“Children.”

“Most initiates get chosen, but there’s always a few that don’t,” explained Obi-wan. “There’s also some who feel called to be in the corps. Like Ellel from my clan. She really wanted to be a teacher so she went to the EduCorps last year.”

“You have clans?” Mandalorians really did have a lot in common with the Jedi, didn’t they?

“We’re raised in initiate clans in the Temple until we’re thirteen, though sometimes people leave for the corps or get chosen as a padawan earlier.” Very interesting and the Arconan was clearly intrigued as well considering the mass groups they lived in, but Holdan was getting off the point.

“When Ellel left, did she have a Jedi with her to take her to her posting?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said Obi-wan. “We said goodbye in the Temple. They could have sent someone who met her at the transport.” He brightened. “They probably did since the EduCorps sent her all this information about how much they wanted her!”

“And why didn’t this AgriCorps send someone to meet you?” asked Holdan.

“I don’t know. Maybe they did and I missed them? Clat’Ha did say the crew was worried about me.” The boy looked down at his lap, embarrassed. “I’m not really sure how this works. I never left the Temple before yesterday.”

Oh ka’ra! For one second, he was ready to murder every Jedi for their poor treatment of the ad. Then he reminded himself he had a cousin in Death Watch. He knew better than to hate a whole group for the actions of a few.

“Listen, Ob’ika-” The boy had flinched away from him, probably sensing his anger.

“Let’s get you discharged!” the returning medic said cheerfully, not even noticing he was interrupting. The medic detached the ad from the tubes, then suggested he should head for his cabin. Holdan went to follow, but the ad sent him an apologetic look before grabbing the Arconan’s hand and rushing away. Obi-wan was still determined to find the saboteurs, Holdan imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No romance novel excerpt because I actually split this chapter in half so you guys could get a chapter today:)


	6. Bandomeer Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Holdan (sadly) does not kill Qui-gon Jinn.

Holdan spent the next several hours trying to find the kid when his luck somehow got even worse – they were attacked by Togorian pirates. (If he had had the time, he’d have taken a minute to just bang his helmet against the bulkhead). Obi-wan was still nowhere to be seen, but he found Jinn and the miner woman fighting off the pirates. Holdan took pot shots at the giant Togorian wielding a vibroaxe in between Jinn’s attacks. The Jedi already had an injury to his shoulder.

“Where’s Obi-wan?” he shouted at Jinn.

The ship lurched beneath them pushing the Togorian in the opposite direction for the moment. “Where do you think?” asked Jinn, his eyes looking towards the bridge of the ship.

Holdan cursed. The shabuir didn’t trust Obi-wan to be a knight, but did trust him to fly a ship and fight off pirates with said ship? His next few shots singed the hair on the Jedi’s head. He was particularly pleased when he severed a whole lock of it.

Once the ship righted itself and the pirates retreated, Holdan made his way to the ship’s bridge. He didn’t interrupt Obi-wan’s concentration since he was landing the ship with the help of one of the weakened ship’s crew, but he was amazed to find out that Obi-wan had not only destroyed one of the pirate’s ships, he’d also shaken the other ships off them which is why the pirates had retreated. And, of course, Obi-wan was politely explaining to the crew that he’d never flown or fought with any ship before in his life. Holdan was pretty sure even the shabuir of a Jedi would change his mind about taking the kid as an apprentice after this.

“You did good, Ob’ika,” he told him once he had safely landed the ship. Obi-wan gave him a pleased, but tired smile. “Get some rest,” he suggested. The boy was swaying on his feet. Obi-wan nodded tiredly and trudged off.

The crew then requested his help using his jetpack to ferry some key repair supplies to the top of the ship. Holdan was willing to do anything to get them off this planet faster, considering the dangerous looking draigons that perched on the rocks nearby.

A few hours before dawn, they ran out of tasks for him so he made his way back into the ship, intent on checking on Obi’ika before getting his own rest. As he should have expected, the kid’s cabin was empty and he wasn’t in the passenger lounge. Luckily, he stumbled across the young Arconan (who introduced himself as Si Treemba) who was looking for Obi-wan as well.

They found him in an observation alcove near the engines, his gaze fixed on the view. The sadness and despair on the kid’s face sent a pang through Holdan’s heart.

“We were looking for you,” said Si Treemba.

“What happened?” asked Holdan. “I was outside helping the crew.”

Obi-wan nodded his understanding. “Jemba the Hutt has stolen the Arconan’s dactyl and says he’ll only trade it back in return for them becoming slaves.” Dactyl was a like a vitamin that Arconan’s had to eat every day to survive.

“Obi-wan asked us to wait,” said Si Treemba in a tired voice. “So we will, but not for long.”

“And what’s Jinn’s plan?” asked Holdan. At the mention of Jinn’s name, Obi-wan grimaced. “What did that di’kut say to you?”

“He says to wait. I thought maybe we could confront Jemba away from his backup and get it back, but Qui-gon is right, it would be acting in anger.”

“You do not seem angry,” observed Si Treemba.

“I’m… I feel like I’ve reached a plateau. I’ve been acting selfishly this whole trip. I got you captured by the Hutts and had to rescue you, Si Treemba.” (He did what?!) “I piloted the ship and fought off the pirates, but really, I was secretly hoping that Qui-gon would see me and change his mind. He told me that he wouldn’t, no matter what I did.” There was so much anguish on his face. Holdan wanted to hug him, but wasn’t sure how the boy would react. “And I’ve always been this way. Fighting so hard just to be a Jedi, and it makes me so angry when others stand in my way.”

“Jedi seek to serve others,” said Si Treemba thoughtfully. “We do not think that acting to protect the weak or fighting to protect us is wrong. It is not evil to want to do well.” The Arconan was very wise.

“Obi-wan, forget what Jinn said, instead, what does the Force tell you?” Holdan was so grateful for _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ ’s somewhat boring discussions of the Force. Seeing Jedi in action, it was all making sense.

Obi-wan was silent for several minutes. Holdan took off his helmet and arranged Si Treemba comfortably on the floor when he dropped off to sleep. No doubt the lack of dactyl was catching up with him.

“It says I’m meant to be a Jedi Knight,” said Obi-wan finally. “But I don’t see how! Once my birthday passes I can never be chosen and Master Jinn will never choose me.” Holdan hadn’t been born a Mandalorian. His birth parents had always demanded perfection from him and his every memory of them was tainted with their disappointment when he couldn’t live up to their standards. They had greedily accepted the money his buir used to bribe them into giving up custody. Holdan had needed years of therapy to get over the emotional abuse.

Holdan chose his words carefully. He hadn’t appreciated being told he was abused as a child. “Sometimes, there are people in our lives who are never satisfied, no matter how hard we try. You can give them everything, even parts of yourself you really shouldn’t, and they will still demand more. Jinn strikes me as that sort of person.”

“He’s a Jedi Master!” protested Obi-wan.

“Are you saying Jedi can never make mistakes?”

“No, but Master Jinn is a great Jedi.”

“Although I personally haven’t seen it,” said Holdan. Even the man’s fight with the pirate hadn’t been anything thrilling! “Is it possible for someone to be good at being a Jedi, but bad at being a Master?”

“He lost his former Padawan,” said Obi-wan, but the boy looked thoughtful.

Holdan nodded. “Okay, so maybe he’s still grieving. That isn’t an excuse for him to keep hurting you.” He could tell Obi-wan didn’t believe him, but, well, Holdan hadn’t believed it the first few times either.

“You do have other options than the AgriCorps or Jinn. I’m not sure what you know about Mandalorians…” He trailed off, hoping Obi-wan would fill in the blanks.

“Uhm, I remember the Mandalorian Wars a thousand years ago and that they allied with the Sith, and don’t like Jedi?”

“There’s been a… change in Mandalorian culture recently.” Holdan had no idea how to explain what was happening with _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ to a kid. He’d probably just hand the kid the book in a few weeks when he was 13 and hope that it explained some things. “More emphasis on being good warriors and taking care of our ade. There’s still some extremists who don’t like Jedi, but the rest of us have decided to forgive.”

Obi-wan nodded. Luckily, he didn’t know enough about Mandalorians to know how revolutionary that was.

“Mandalorians place great emphasis on caring for children. _Any children_. And even though just like the Jedi, you’d be an adult in Mandalorian culture at 13, I’d like to adopt you. I’ll find a Jedi to teach you, so you can be a knight, and I’ll teach you to be a warrior in the meantime.”

“I… I don’t think the Jedi Council would allow it,” said Obi-wan softly. He was obviously tempted, but Holdan could tell he wasn’t going to accept. Some Mandalorians would have said the adoption vows anyway, but Holdan wanted Obi-wan’s agreement.

“I cannot guarantee what will happen, but I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to make sure you become a Jedi Knight.”

There was the shine of tears in Obi-wan’s eyes. “Thank you, Holdan. I will consider it.”

“That’s all I ask,” said Holdan firmly. “And in the meantime, I do have a plan for getting the dactyl back.”

“What is it?”

“The crew told me before I came in that the tide is rising. They think it’s going to flood the ship. Everyone, including Offworld, are going to be evacuated to the caves in the nearby cliffs for the day. They’ll have to transport the dactyl out if they don’t want it to melt. If we can figure out where they put it in the caves, I can easily grab some.”

“Why would they let you do that?” asked Obi-wan.

Holdan grinned. “I’m a Mandalorian. We’re well known as mercenaries and bounty hunters. None of the Offworlders will blink an eye if I say I’ve been hired to guard the dactyl. Jemba’s the only one who will question it, but he’ll probably go taunt the Arconans at some point. Then I can act.”

Obi-wan nodded.

“Now, if you and Si Treemba, if he’s up to it, want to leave now and go map out the shape of the caves. They’ll probably put the dactyl in an easily defensible side chamber. You report your results to me, and I’ll go in once Jemba leaves to bother the Arconans.”

“And I’ll be protecting the Arconans,” said Obi-wan firmly. Holdan figured that was the safest he could make the ad in this situation.

Soon, Obi-wan had Si Treemba up and the plan explained. They reported back two hours later that the dactyl was probably going to be placed in one of two potential chambers within the large cave next to the smaller one that the Arconans were already claiming.

Also, Jinn had disappeared from the ship without a word. Holdan hoped he got eaten by a draigon.

Holdan stationed himself against a wall in the Offworlder’s main cave. It took forever for Jemba to leave to taunt the Arconans with a small bag of dactyl in hand. Holdan waited several minutes before approaching the Whiphids guarding the door to the side chamber. Only one of them was a little doubtful about Holdan’s credentials, but after a short staring match that Holdan won due to his buy’ce not having eyes (ka’ra, Whiphids were stupid…), he took over their shift. A few minutes later, he was leaving the door with a large sack of dactyl in hand.

Unfortunately, when he got to the Arconan cave, the way was blocked by the massive form of Jemba the Hutt. He could hear Obi-wan on the other side of the Hutt’s bulk trying to reason with him. ‘Such a Jedi thing,’ he thought fondly. The only reason he hadn’t shot the Hutt in the back yet is because his body would be too hard to move afterwards.

A second later, he was astonished when Obi-wan flipped over the Hutt’s head, lightsaber drawn and his gaze focused on the mouth of the cave with startling intensity. Obi-wan blocked Jemba’s Whiphid guard’s shots almost absentmindedly. Holdan shot the rest.

“Obi-wan!” he cried. The boy finally seemed to notice him, eyes brightening at the bag of dactyl. Jemba was roaring for the boy’s head in the background, but was having trouble turning around in the tunnel.

“I’ll take the Hutt,” said Obi-wan cheerfully before taking off. Holdan didn’t want to let him go, but the Arconans did need their dactyl soon. Jemba completely missed him in his brown and black armor standing against the wall, and instead followed after Obi-wan. Holdan, pretty much tossed the bag of dactyl at the leader of the miners before sprinting back towards the cave entrance.

He passed Jinn on the way, but paid him no mind.

When he arrived, Obi-wan was in a scene straight out of a holo novel. Lightning flashed and rain sizzled on his lightsaber as he expertly fended off draigon after draigon. He leaped moments before any claws or teeth could reach him, and the draigons were forming a pile around the boy.

Holdan was afraid to call out for fear of distracting Obi-wan from his dance of death. Fortunately, the boy seemed to have an idea and started luring the dragons closer to the mouth of the cave. Maybe he wanted to block it with their bodies? Holdan started shooting to draw the draigons nearer.

Jemba appeared beside him with a blaster rifle in his hands. He must have detoured to grab it from his men. Obi-wan asked for help, but of course Jemba raised the blaster rifle to shoot him instead.

Holdan shot the Hutt in the head. A second blaster bolt came from the rocks below to hi Jemba in the chest, followed by the strangled cry of a Hutt. Jemba fell dead.

“Keep your eyes on the draigons, Ob’ika!” The boy had frozen for a moment due to the Hutt’s death. He dutifully sliced through the maw of a draigon who was aiming for his head. Holdan reminded himself to breath.

Finally, Jinn appeared and the two Jedi and Holdan’s blaster made short work of the rest of the attackers. But the Jedi didn’t rest. Instead, they headed to the next cave entrance manned by many dead Offworld miners. And the next after that. They were joined by the revived Arconans eventually. Their help was greatly appreciated when the draigons started tunneling in to get at them.

It was a very long day. Eventually, the sun set and the draigons called off their attack. Hundreds of miners were dead and the Offworld ones were surprisingly respectful of their Jedi defenders and the Arconans.

Since Jinn once again abandoned Obi-wan despite the astonishing skills and stamina he had shown that day, Holdan made it his duty to shadow the boy. He made sure Obi-wan had a large meal then pretty much marched the ad back to his chambers to sleep.

The crew worked through the night to get the ship repaired. They arrived on Bandomeer a day later.

After disembarkation, Obi-wan still insisted he was going to the AgriCorps. Holdan nodded his understanding and told him he’d be on planet for a few more weeks. He’d ask again just before Obi-wan’s birthday. The boy wasn’t meant to be a farmer. He sent a glare at Jinn to take care of the boy, but Jinn was staring at a piece of paper like it had the answer to the mysteries of the galaxy.

In the meantime, Holdan went and found a job with the Arconan mining group guarding their equipment from sabotage. He also sent a long complaint to the Jedi about not protecting their ade.

Things got very hectic when the Home Planet Mine exploded. Holdan worked side by side with Jinn rescuing as many as they could. It was there that Holdan finally understood what Obi-wan had meant about the man being a good Jedi. He was an awful person, but he was useful in a crisis.

Then a few days later, it all came crashing down. Si Treemba contacted him. “We think you care for our friend. Obi-wan is missing. It is our fault. If we had not fallen asleep…”

The Arconan was young and sounded very tired, but Holdan didn’t have the time to comfort him. “Tell me everything!” He learned of the suspicious hidden mining supplies by Offworld, and that it was men in those uniforms that took Obi-wan away. Jinn had been informed of Obi-wan’s suspicions, but, as was typical of him, had dismissed them. Holdan barely had the presence of mind to thank Si Treemba before he was hunting down Jinn.

_The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ said that you just had to hide your intent in order to sneak up on a Jedi – that and be wearing beskar. Holdan kept a strong lid on his temper as he got in range of the Jedi. He punched once, then twice, making sure he broke the man’s nose. Then he stalked off to find a better communicator. He had an ad to find, a plea to be sent to the Mand’alor, and a warning against the Jedi Qui-gon Jinn to spread to the rest of the Mandalorians. 

++++++

_““How did you come by the ad, the child, I mean, far out here?” asked Naured. He had already taken off his helmet, sat down on the hard ground and placed his weapon far from his side. The little one was still clutching the jetii’s leg, but had at least dared to look at him now instead of hiding her face away. It was his helmet and weapons that scared her the most. What Mando’ade, no, Dar’Manda had dared to hurt an ad?_

_The jetii sighed and placed a comforting hand on the ad’ika’s head. “She stowed away to escape. I wasn’t going to leave her there.””_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Bandomeer is only one sector away from Mandalore.


	7. Jon Antilles 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jon Antilles finally meets his fan club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing! Also, thanks to everyone who could and did vote:D
> 
> I feel like I should clarify that with the exceptions of the New Mandalorians (cause there's something weirdly racial going on there) none of my OC Mandalorians are white. Some of them have white skin, but are still POC, and many have that whole genetic admixture of tons of species from the Mandalorian past going on. Holdan is Asian, though I'll leave it to you all to headcanon what part of Asia he's from:)

The cantinas had been a mistake. Jon was sure there were more and more Mandalorians in them as the night went on. And unlike when he was fighting where they just watched, he hadn’t had to pay for a single drink all night and they kept buying him full meals, even in the cantinas that didn’t serve food. There was blatant disappointment radiating through the Force when he refused the first few drinks and meals before Jon just gave in and resigned himself to filtering out any poisons that might be added. At this point, he was unsurprised when he didn’t find any.

By the fifth cantina, Jon was stuffed and would have been horribly drunk if he hadn’t been filtering the alcohol. He also knew that either the governor wanted him dead because she was trying to hide her non-Washuurian lover (a big taboo that would ruin her political career) or that it was the governor’s second who was stealing from the government (and possibly jealously in love with the governor). He’d meditate on it and see which option the Force led him to.

It was only as he was heading for the door that one of the six Mandalorians in the bar got up and blocked his way. Normally, that would be a very good sign for everyone else to get out of the bar, but they were also holding up their weaponless hands and had their helmet off to reveal a pleading human face. “We didn’t want to disturb you at work, Jedi Antilles, but this is the first time we’ve seen you off duty.”

Jon snorted. “If you think this wasn’t duty, then you weren’t paying attention.”

“That’s why we waited until now. There aren’t any more cantinas left in town, so Jagi figured you were finished for the night. If you’ve got more to do, well, we won’t stop you, but we’ve been wanting to talk to you since Heplura.” That had been the planet with the cliff pirates.

Jon’s only plan had been to find a safe place to meditate for the night. Maybe even sleep if he was lucky. Getting answers to why he was being stalked would be worth the delay.

“All right,” he said. The Mandalorian gave him a pleased smile and led the way to a table with two other Mandalorians. They had left him a seat with his back to the wall, something Jon found strangely thoughtful coming from famous warriors like Mandalorians.

“What is it you wish to say?” he asked once he was settled, ignoring the way one of them nudged a dish of bar snacks in front of him.

“First, I’m Mij and right now I’m a woman. Jagi is the man on your right and Makin is on your left. They/them are their pronouns. We wanted to know your preferences sexually and relationship wise?”

Maybe Jon _had_ been poisoned and didn’t know it. “You’ve been following me to proposition me?”

Mij nodded. “Yes, only we didn’t know what you preferred so when we fought on Heplura, we planned to check with you once the tournament finished, but by the time we were, you were gone. Everyone agreed not to bother you while you were working, but that seems to be the only time we see you.”

“You fought over me?” asked Jon, feeling a bit dazed.

“Of course! You’re such an amazing warrior, you deserve only the best of us.”

“And the three of you won?”

“No. The six of us did.” She gestured at the other three Mandalorians who were perched at good vantage points around the bar. “See, we’re here if you prefer polyamory. The one in the green and orange armor is male and prefers men. The one in the black, green and white armor is female and prefers men, and the one in yellow and silver is from a species with no gender and has no preferences gender or species wise. They are looking for monogamous relationships. We thought that covered a wide range, but if you have other preferences, we recorded the tournament winners, so you can pick and choose.”

Jon’s night had now taken such a strange turn, he might as well play along. “And if I don’t get along with the winner who fits my preferences?”

Mij blushed. “The tournament was just to organize who got to date you first and some rules for not bothering you. You’re free to choose whoever you want.”

Jon just stared at them all, speechless. The Force was telling him every last word was true.

++++++

_“It bothered Naured a lot that Hiam was going out there without him, and even more that it was without armor. Jedi tunics didn’t even have padding much less the ability to stop weapons! True, their weapons allowed them to repel any blaster fire before it got near them. But that was the reason every Mandalorian warrior carried slug throwers these days._

_Before Naured could think about it too much, he was detaching his breast plate. “Wait. Please wear this. Under your tunic if you must.” No matter how much his cheeks warmed at the idea of others seeing Hiam openly wearing Naured’s armor, it was probably best he hide it for now._

_“Naured…”_

_“I want you safe, Hiam.””_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon Antilles: "This might as well happen."


	8. The Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Council starts to get a clue, and Jocasta is ahead of them.

It was not the nature of the Jedi Council to act hastily. Privately, Mace Windu thought it was sometimes not in its nature to act at all. It was no wonder that Yoda sometimes just seemed to bypass it entirely like with that fiasco with Qui-gon Jinn and Obi-wan Kenobi both suspiciously being sent off on the same dangerous transport. They already had a complaint from a Holdan Lla on the subject that still needed to be addressed.

Normally, Mace wouldn’t react much to what was a fairly standard mission report from Master Thilsa and Padawan Kiro. Although the mission had gone sideways, they had succeeded. Hitching a ride with a bounty hunter to get away was certainly not the weirdest way he’d heard of a Jedi finding their way home. He hadn’t been on the Council at the time, but the report of Jedi Knight Gan flying a giant bird across half a continent to stop some sort of army was rather legendary.

But normally, there weren’t massive shatterpoints threatening the edge of Mace’s vision whenever a Jedi opened their mouth.

“Is there anything else you wish to tell us, Master Thilsa?” he asked. Thilsa stood up even straighter, her padawan echoing the movement behind her.

The Force was straining in anticipation.

“Yes. My padawan has been adopted by the Mandalorians and will be raised in both Jedi and Mandalorian traditions. They are more similar and compatible than I think any of us realized. I will be meeting with the Mandalorians regularly to ensure she is comfortable in both cultures.”

The shatterpoint broke. Mace grit his teeth and shunted the pain off into the Force.

Now that he looked, Padawan Kiro had a beskar vambrace on her arm under her robes. A match for the one he saw on her master. What in the world did that mean?

“Curious, this is,” said Yoda. 

“Understatement, that is,” muttered Yaddle. Yarael Poof’s neck was swaying side to side in his equivalent of concern and/or possibly laughter. Mace found it impossible to tell.

“Do you know why, after 1000 years of animosity, the Mandalorians would help you and adopt a Jedi padawan?” asked Ki-Adi Mundi.

Master Thilsa face was perfectly blank. “No, Masters.”

Mace settled back in his chair. The pain was threatening to edge out his vision.

Master Tyvokka must have noticed. “You are dismissed Master Thilsa, Padawan Kiro. The Council will discuss the situation and get back to you.” That was better than making them stand there while the Council had a very strong discussion (argument) about the issue.

What the kark was going on with the Mandalorians?

++++++

Jocasta Nu was not one for reading fiction. She’d happily spend hours reading through obscure biographies or court records from early Coruscant, but only read fiction once or twice a year. She thought, therefore, that she could be forgiven for ignoring the book that had been sent to her a few months ago. After all, it was hardly the first romance novel featuring Jedi. She had forwarded the thing to her former padawan in the ExplorCorps, T’Kreey, who was utterly obsessed with, “sentient species physical and mental attraction to Jedi in written form” as she put it.

But today she had been looped in on both the recent Council session _and_ seen the complaint about Obi-wan Kenobi’s treatment from Holdan Lla. (Although Jocasta had left the Council a few years before due to how much time it took away from the Archives, she still often was sent interesting sessions by one councilor or another.) Unlike anyone on the Council, she was a linguist and could recognize the tics when a Mando’a speaker wrote in Galactic Standard. She recognized therefore that they didn’t just have one problem with the Mandolorians, they had two, and possibly more of them. Because Holdan Lla’s complaint mentioned “expecting more of the Jedi” from what he _read_. That could, of course, have been a reference to the multiple texts that had been published about Jedi over the centuries, but non-Archivists were much more likely to be reading what was popular.

It was a simple matter to cross list the Coruscant top 10,000 with the Mandalorian sector’s top 1000. Especially when _The Mandalorian Dilemma_ was sitting firmly in the number one spot on the Mandalorian list and in the top 1000 of the Coruscant one.

She pulled up the book on her pad and speed read the first chapter. She then paused, and sent the book to Yan with the command, “Read this!” attached. She then went back to the book. 

++++++

_“The hot springs smelled of sulfur and rotten eggs, but they would keep them warm tonight. Naured would never admit it, but he would miss the huddling for warmth._

_“Come, little one. Let me help you sleep,” said Hiam and wrapped Kiri in her customary Jedi cloak bundle. Naured could never tell if he was doing some Force osik or not, but once Hiam touched his forehead to hers, she was always fast asleep._

_Hiam turned to him. “Let me help you sleep as well, or at least relax.”_

_“How?”_

_“Take off your armor and let me show you.”_

_It felt strange to be lying on his stomach, but then Hiam straddled him and leaned deeply on Naured’s shoulders, first one side, then the other before he began gently kneading the tired muscles. There was warmth and, strangely, a sense of peace radiating from his hands and into Naured’s back. He drifted, too relaxed to find it odd that he could feel both his own muscles and the muscles in his hands as they pressed into flesh.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering what Master Thilsa looks like, see the Kessurian bio page on Wookiepedia:)


	9. Knol Ven'nari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is bonding over fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is confused about the timeline here - the last few paragraphs of Bandomeer Part 2 with Obi-wan disappearing, take place several days after Holdan sent in his complaint to the Jedi. In the meantime, Mandos continue to hit on Jedi, Thilsa and padawan return from their 2 month jaunt with Briila, the Council is confused, Jocasta and Dooku read the book, and the True Mandalorians are finishing up their mission on Galidraan. Feemor's upcoming chapters take place the day the Jedi arrive on Galidraan, which is also the day Holdan's message to the Mand'alor arrives.

Master Knol Ven’nari was enjoying herself. She was here on Tlessi for the Festival of Lights when thousands of candles were placed on the flat, colorful flowers that grew all over the waterways. The flower roots were then cut to drift slowly towards the ocean. She had had just enough unfiltered alcohol to be idly using the Force to make the flames on the tiny candles placed on smaller flowers in the bowl on the bar, dance to the rhythm of the food stand’s music.

The Force remained calm even when two Mandalorians in full armor sat down either side of her. _She_ couldn’t help tensing a little.

“May the Force be with you,” said the taller one on her right. “I’m Arre and next to you is my younger brother, Den Hbba. Are you Jedi Master Knol Ven’nari?” The younger brother was a Sullustan judging by the name and the extra wide helmet. The elder sister, if she was not mistaken, was a Trianii. They had a tail wrapped around the waist of their unusually shaped armor. An unusual family if you didn’t know the Mandalorian habit of adopting any child in need.

“I am,” Knol responded. “What brings you to the Festival of Lights?”

“Why the beautiful sights,” said Arre. She removed her helmet and put it her lap. The fur on the sides of her face was going every which way due to her helmet. “And not just the lights.” She met Knol’s eyes with a toothy grin and her tongue darted out of her lips for a moment.

“Are you hitting on me?” asked Knol, just to be sure. She was used to such things happening to her in Bothan space what with her being a hero there, but this far in the Outer Rim, and by a Mandalorian of all things?

“Yes,” said Arre, though her grin faded a bit.

“What is it you need of me?” asked Knol. It was not very Bothan of her, but in truth she hated the standard political maneuvering and social manipulations that Bothans were known for. It was also one of the many reasons she avoided the Coruscant temple whenever possible; the politics made her shudder.

“We don’t _need_ to know you, but we _want_ to. Someone known as the ‘Fire Eater’ must be interesting.”

“Speak for yourself, vod,” said the Sullustan.

Knol turned to Den Hbba. The Force prompted her to ask. “And what is it you need of me?”

Den leaned in to whisper-shout over the music. “We have come into possession.”

“Legally!” interjected Arre.

Den sent a scathing glare at Arre. “Yes, _legally_ come into possession of a whole pallet of fireworks.” The capital’s main fireworks display was already over, but the citizens of Tlessi were showing their devotion to the gods by setting off multiple fireworks of their own outside of any area that wasn’t heavily populated or flammable. “We wanted to know if you’d like to come up the nearby mountain and help set them off?”

Knol glanced at the tiny lights in the bowl in front of her, then thought of the thrill of making a much larger fire dance. “It would be my duty as a Jedi to go with you, and make sure you don’t harm yourselves or others with your devotional display,” she said while she downed the rest of her drink in front of her. She stood up. “Let’s go!”

Arre let out a delighted cackle. “Yes! Let’s go set things on fire!”

++++++

_““I can use the Force to jump up there myself, Naured,” said Hiam._

_Naured just pulled him closer. Jetii were so stubborn. “You need to save your strength for the battle.” He leaned in so their foreheads met and thought at his stubborn jetii, ‘Let me hold you close one more time before we go to war.’_

_Hiam got the message judging by how his body relaxed into Naured’s grip. “All right,” he said, a fond look on his face._

_Naured pulled on his helmet, got one last secure grip on Hiam, then ignited the jetpack.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I wrote this on Guy Fawkes Day? I have fond memories of accidentally setting a mountain on fire lol


	10. Dooku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dooku reads a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your reviews:D

My dear Jocasta,

Would you care to explain why I just spent the past few hours reading an, admittedly fairly well written, romance novel? You are more of an expert on the Mandalorian Wars than I am, and the book hardly touched on the more esoteric uses of the Force which I would be interested in. I am assuming you did not send it to me for the sex scenes. (If you wanted me to return that text on obscure force sects of the Outer Rim, you could have just requested it.)

Regards,

Yan

Right before they jumped into hyperspace, Jocasta forwarded him a complaint to the Council (which Yan very much doubted he was allowed to see), and a screenshot of the book as the number one bestseller in Mandalorian space.

He read the complaint. Then he poured himself a very expensive glass of Seikoshan liquor. Although the Code would never allow him to admit it, he loved Qui-gon like a son. An estranged son, it’s true. The two of them were just too stubborn, and clashed a lot in the last years of Qui-gon’s padawanship. Yan was pretty sure if he had claimed the sky was blue in those days, Qui-gon would have argued until he lost his voice that it was red.

Despite their falling out after his knighting, Yan kept track of Qui-gon and his padawans. He had never met Feemor or Xanatos, but he knew how much they meant to Qui-gon. It was hardly a secret how much losing Xanatos to the dark side had broken his former padawan. He’d heard rumors that there was an ever shrinking list of other Jedi who were willing to go on missions with Qui-gon. A newer Jedi Knight might have been taken aback by how much Qui-gon had put on their shoulders during this mission to Bandomeer. But on a child who had never even left the Temple before? Sheer madness. Yan was rather impressed that this Obi-wan Kenobi had held up.

And this was a complaint by a Mandalorian. Since he’d just read through _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ , it was very easy to link the complaint with the book considering the screenshot Jocasta had sent. He was also very aware how much of a faux pas Qui-gon, and the Jedi by extension, had committed in Mandalorian eyes regarding a child in their care. Yan hoped Jocasta impressed upon the Council just how delicate this situation truly was. And also pointed out that Kenobi was almost certainly adopted by this point.

_The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ really had been an excellent crash course in Mandalorian culture. And surprisingly candid about the Jedi.

Both the Force and that crash course were prodding at him. There was something more going on here than the adoption of a wayward Jedi initiate or Qui-gon’s blunders. He meditated on it until they made their scheduled drop out of hyperspace. Yan checked on Komari, who was piloting, and asked for them to remain an extra half hour in space so he could check his messages and the holonet.

There were no new messages from Jocasta, but there was one from Sifo-Dyas saying he’d arrived at Jedha. Attached was a taunting picture of an ancient copy of _The History of the Whills_.

Cheeky.

Yan sent him _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ back, knowing his friend had a secret weakness for romance novels. He then turned his attention to the holonet.

There was no Jedi Watchman for the Mandalorian sector so Yan went to the news sources. First, puff pieces on the novel. An opinion piece by a New Mandalorian decrying the glorification of violence that the book supported was contrasted with a piece by a True Mandalorian arguing not just for the culture depicted, but also that Jedi deserved to be warriors.

“You okay there, Master? If you raise your eyebrows any higher, they’re going to climb off your face,” said Komari. She was scrolling through her own pad, no doubt catching up on the latest news about the trashy holovids she loved which she thought he didn’t know about.

“Quite,” said Yan.

All right. So the novel had given some Mandalorians a much more favorable view of the Jedi. He turned to politics. Very little was being reported. Keldabe had had no terrorist attacks from Death Watch in two months. There was an interview with a Duke Kryze about how well the building of new schools and hospitals was going. Economics was where his eyebrows started to climb again. Beskar prices were on the rise. There was an interview with an Armorer Jir which discussed traditional armor options for the modern Mandalorian. He skipped to the next section: culture. There was a discussion of the revival of beskad–

His com chimed. A message from the Jedi Council. Komari waited semi-patiently for him to finish reading it.

“We’re being diverted to rendezvous with a host of other Jedi at Centares. I’ll be leading us to Galidraan to take on the True Mandalorians.”

“Will we get to fight them?” Komari bounced a little in her seat with glee. She loved fighting to a degree that was unbecoming of a Jedi.

“The request is nonsensical. It claims that the True Mandalorians were slaughtering children in front of their parents. That action is simply anathema in their culture. It seems more likely that the government of Galidraan is confused as to who is on their planet due to how similar all the armor looks to an outside observer. It is probably Death Watch who are making trouble. Perhaps that explains why the civil war seems to have died down in the Mandalorian sector.” The Council had included a note that he was to investigate before doing anything, no doubt fueled by Jocasta explaining Holdan Lla’s true identity.

“Okay, Master. So do I get to fight this Death Watch?”

Jan sighed. “Most likely.”

++++++

_“Naured was going to kill him. He flinched when Hiam’s hand was placed right over the burn on his back._

_“You could have told me there was a kriffing rip in my bodysuit!” Naured growled. He held himself very still when he felt Kiri’s tiny hand also touch the burn._

_“Bad word,” she said._

_“Yes, he did say one of those, didn’t he?” Hiam didn’t have to sound amused. “And, Naured, you told me to shut up several hours ago. I was following your wishes.”_

_Naured couldn’t curse again in the front of Kir’ika, but he thought some right at Hiam. Before he could turn around to see if the Jedi was reacting to said curses, he felt a tingling cooling sensation on his burn. After several moments it faded away._

_“There, the sunburn is healed.””_


	11. Feemor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild Feemor appears.

Feemor’s life had been quite peaceful recently. Taking up the role of a Jedi Watchman after the clusterfuck of Qui-gon repudiating him at the same time as Xanatos had been a good idea. It got him away from the gossips at the temple, and allowed him to focus his attentions on local life and politics in this sector. Those sort of details had always been his strength.

This request for his services had come from one of the more… colorful planets in the sector. Lallin and her people had a reputation. All were welcome to visit their planet and partake of its’ bounty. Tariffs were low and the laws were minimal. In fact, there was only one law: the Lallin people must care for others. So the planet itself was a strange mix of retirement communities, casinos, hospice and respite care for the ill, spas, smuggler’s and pirate’s dens, and refugee camps.

Feemor had been called to Lallin near the beginning of his posting to negotiate a dispute, but they had hardly needed his presence. A smuggler had stolen medical supplies from one of their hospitals. He had dumped the supplies and tried to run when caught, but the hospital had demanded he take the supplies and anything else he wanted since he obviously needed it more. The exceedingly embarrassed and shamed smuggler had just needed to be pointed in the direction of a planet which had suffered a recent tsunami and could use the supplies much more than his Hutt buyers.

Honestly, Feemor had been low key terrified of the Lallini ever since. They wielded social shame with more skill than he did his lightsaber, that’s for sure.

He headed to the coordinates he had been given and was unsurprised to find it was a spa known for its’ multiple fountains.

“Ah, Watchman Feemor,” said I’ko, the governmental official who’d been assigned his care last time. “Welcome again to Lallin.” I’ko handed him the mixed drink that Feemor had loved when he was here. Of course, he had never indicated that at the time.

The Lallini really were kind of terrifying.

He bowed and took the drink. “Thank you, I’ko. I’m happy to be of service again.”

“The Jedi dedication to service is one we Lallini’s truly appreciate,” said I’ko, gesturing for Feemor to follow him deeper into the spa. “We were hoping you could help us provide some aide for a young man with an issue only a Jedi can solve.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Feemor. It was always better to be as noncommittal as possible in these sorts of situations.

I’ko moved his hand in one of the Lallini gestures of appreciation. They entered a room covered in patterned tiles of blue and green. A waterfall cascaded softly down the side of one wall, while comfy furniture and soft lighting spread across the room. Seated rather uncomfortably in a chair which consisted of a giant stuffed ball of fluff was a Mandalorian. Their helmet was on the floor next to the chair. Feemor was glad to note that there were no weapons in sight.

“Benin of Clan Kryze, this is Watchman Feemor of the Jedi Order. We hope this meeting brings you much joy.” And I’ko left them alone.

Benin seemed to be struggling to figure out what to say, so Feemor politely took his time finding a slightly less squishy ball to drag opposite the Mando. He settled into it cross legged and took a long, savoring sip of the salty-sweet drink. Delicious.

“Master Jedi,” said Benin finally. “I have sought out a Jedi to in order to ascertain certain truths.” He picked up a book from the table next to him and held it out to Feemor. “I would request that you read this and tell me how accurate it is about the Jedi.”

Feemor took the book. The title page said _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ by Mo’ra D’Amor. He flipped through to a random page and raised an eyebrow. The margins of the text were covered in notes which read such things as, “More accurately known as the K447 Slug Thrower” and “Did Mandalore have hot springs then? Look it up.”

“It shouldn’t take you too long,” said Benin. He’d have been perched on the edge of his seat if not for the chair attempting to swallow him whole. Feemor was not sure his eyebrow could climb any higher.

“I’ll read it,” he assured the young man. “Though I can’t reveal any Jedi secrets.”

Benin nodded. “Understandable.” He made no move to do anything other than watch Feemor. Apparently, he was supposed to read the book right now.

Feemor held back a sigh, but opened the book to the first page.

++++++

_“The blaster bolt ricocheted off the dead Mando’ade’s armor and right into Naured’s jetpack. He’d been hovering over the jetii, trying to get a better shot._

_He fell. Right on top of the karking jetii. The jetii’s weapon stuttered out when it hit his beskar and they both collided hard. His buy’ce hit the jetii’s head with worrisome force._

_“Owww.”_

_Naured wasn’t sure which of them had said it, but he must have hit his head harder than he thought because all he could think about was how up close the jetii’s eyes were the color of clouds before a storm.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that smuggler's name? Jean Valjean


	12. Interludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some interludes of other Jedi and Mandalorians around the galaxy.

T’Kreera was frustrated. She had spent over a month negotiating peace between warring factions on an Outer Rim planet that required her to follow Jedi decorum to the letter or else ruin the peace talks. Now that it was over and she was far away, all she really wanted was a spar and a fuck, not necessarily in that order. She was several days from the Temple and her usual partners though, and katas were not cutting it.

“The nerf burgers here are surprisingly tasty,” offered a man as he sat down next to her at the bar. She looked at the speaker and almost did a double take at the orange and blue armor.

“Are they?” she asked, then selected a burger from the electronic menu. “You know, I’ve never had a Mandalorian deliberately talk to me before.” The perils of being a Jedi Knight.

The Mandalorian had dark skin and a handsome smile. “Name’s Jos. I don’t think I’ve spoken to a Jedi before either, but I hear we have a lot in common.”

“T’Kreera. Like what?”

“Well, we like to fight.” His eyes did a slow slide up and down her body, even though with the robes there was nothing to see. She fought back a blush. “And I hear we’re both passionate about our beliefs.”

T’Kreera used the Force to check that he was being sincere. He was.

She grinned at him. “Sounds like we should explore these similarities further.” His smile back was blinding.

++++++

“I mean no offense,” began Aldavol, “but would you please stop interfering?” These Mandalorians were ruining his mission!

The two Mandalorians flanking him tilted their helmets at each other, obviously discussing things over coms, Aldavol wasn’t privy to.

“We’re thinking ‘no’,” said the one on the left in green. “You’re in over your head taking on the Klatos Cartel on your own.”

“I’d have been in and out with the intel already if you weren’t drawing attention to me!”

“Jetii, they broadcasted your image and a bounty on your head within an hour of you landing,” said the other one in full blue armor.

“So you’re protecting your bounty?” asked Aldavol, feeling nervous. He didn’t want to fight two Mandalorians _and_ a cartel at the same time.

“No,” denied Blue. “We’re protecting you from other bounty hunters because for some reason, you Jetii go into situations like this without backup.”

“Let us help, vod,” said Green, and patted him on the shoulder.

Aldavol could see no way to get rid of them. “I’d still have been fine on my own,” he said, “but if you insist…”

“We do,” said Blue. He was radiating feral glee from under his helmet. “We really do.”

++++++

Jedi Master Bolla Ropal was returning from a Search. The Force and the Kyber memory crystal had blessed him with ample new initiates, so much so that he was beginning to feel like a crèche master on an outing. A very stressful outing.

“Garrarl, please get out of the luggage rack.” The wookie toddler grunted in surprise. His back was to her, but even if the Force hadn’t told him where she was, his antennae would have told him via the vibrations.

“Rrrrr,” said a tiny voice at his feet. The orphaned Selonian, Li, was gnawing on the glaive that had belonged to her mother. Bolla double checked that it was still in its sheathe so the girl didn’t cut herself. Bolla would have to make sure the crèche knew she’d have to return to the Corellian system when she was older to learn about her people.

The human twins, Char and Chenin, were thankfully sleeping peacefully in their big bassinet on the passenger couch in their compartment.

Which left one child missing. “Tedala?” Hadn’t she gone in the fresher a while ago?

He got up to check. The fresher was empty. Kriff. He had way too many initiates to take care of for one person.

He was just centering on the Force to find Tedala when there was a knock on the compartment door. The Force told him to open it.

Standing on the other side was a tall Mandalorian without a helmet, possibly male though Bolla was bad at telling such things in humans. Next to them was a Mandalorian child, perhaps 10 or 11 in human years. The child had a few pieces of armor compared to the adult’s full suit. And snuggled happily in the child’s arms was Tedala, her bushy hair practically in the kid’s mouth.

“Tedala,” Bolla sighed.

“She crawled out of the vents in our fresher,” said the adult. “Once we realized she was a jetii ad, we checked the manifest to find you. She made it quite a few compartments away from you.” The Mandalorian sounded a bit admiring of the feat.

“My apologies for the inconvenience,’ said Bolla with a bow. “Thank you for bringing her back.” He held out his hands and Tedala reluctantly was transferred into his arms. He wasn’t sure who looked more upset, Tedala or the Mandalorian child. “This isn’t your home planet, Tedala. It can be dangerous to go off on your own.”

“Bu’ s’plorin?” she said, gazing up at him with liquid brown eyes.

“You must stay with me until we reach the Temple, youngling, then you can explore to your heart’s content.” And no doubt to her crèche master’s despair.

He held out a foot to prevent Li from crawling out the door.

“Looks like you have your hands full,” said the adult Mandalorian. He glanced down at his child. “If you wouldn’t mind, we’ve got a new ad, uh, child waiting for us at home that’s about Tedala’s age. Gahd is nervous about being an ori’vod – big brother – for the first time, and would like more time with Tedala and your other ade to practice.” The child was nodding his agreement, looking eagerly at the kids scattered around the compartment.

Bolla appreciated the tactful offer of help. He checked with the Force, but sensed no ill intent. “I would be happy to aid your youngling’s education.”

++++++

_“Hiam had a nice voice. He was softly singing what sounded like a lullaby in a language Naured didn’t recognize. It kept Kiri calm and she was nodding off where she was perched on Hiam’s back. Naured himself was content to listen as they walked onwards. His armor’s climate controls only just made the heat bearable._

_A moment later, however, the singing stopped and Hiam froze, head cocked._

_“What is it?” asked Naured._

_A high pitched whine pierced the air far above their heads._

_“Behind me, Naured, and stay close!” ordered Hiam, then raised his hands toward the sky.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually did a long google search to try to find the word for 'shit' in Rodian/Rodese. What is my life? lol


	13. Jaster 2/Galidraan 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Mandalorians are forewarned.

“There are Jedi coming to Galidraan!” called one of the vod’e excitedly out in the mess hall.

Jaster sighed. The Mando’ade’s stalking of the Jedi was really getting a bit too efficient if they were intercepting their mission orders before they happened now. He was honestly surprised there hadn’t been a diplomatic incident yet. Though then again the weird fan club forming around that crazy, flying(!) Jedi on the Outer Rim was an explosion waiting to happen.

“Report to my office with your intel, vod!” called Jaster over the resulting chatter. The vod, Silas, looked a bit chagrined at shouting the intel to everyone. Jaster took one last bite of his rations before heading out, Jango silently at his heels.

He read over the data in silence, Jango reading over his shoulder. The good news was that the vod’e weren’t hacking the Jedi’s mission orders. Instead, these were communications between the Governor of Galidraan and the Republic which Jaster had set the verd’e to monitoring as a precaution. The Governor, who had paid the True Mandalorians to come here and put down their insurgents, had inexplicably sent an urgent request to the Republic Senate two days ago requesting help with the True Mandalorians who were described as the worst demagolka. The Senate response said they were ordering the Jedi here to “deal with” the True Mandalorians.

Thankfully, there was also a polite inquiry from a Jedi Master Dooku which asked in a very roundabout way if the Governor was sure it was True Mandalorians rather than Death Watch and that the Jedi would investigate further once they arrived. Today.

It seemed the diplomatic incident he was dreading had arrived.

“Why didn’t we get this sooner?” he demanded. Jango growled a wordless agreement.

“Sorry, alor. It took a while for us to break their encryption.”

“The Governor betraying us was probably a bit more important than the Jedi coming,” suggested Jaster with a bit of bite to his voice. He had a feeling Silas was bright red under his buy’ce. The young vod was in for a massive chewing out once they had more time.

“The Governor is dead,” snarled Jango.

“I agree,” said Jaster, “But if we kill him on the same day the Jedi arrive, it will only confirm the Governor’s lies, Jan’ika. We’ll let the Jedi investigate, and we’ll evacuate any non-essential personnel.” He raised his voice. “That includes anyone who just wants to stay to meet the Jedi!” He heard a few muttered curses from the verd’e standing guard outside.

“Jango, get them moving!” They’d been planning on departing Galidraan the next day at the latest anyway. “And send Aerta into the Governor’s mansion, though tell her to be careful.” She was their best infiltration expert with a mastery in slicing on the side.

“Elek, buir!”

Once Jango left, Silas tapped another message open on the pad. “This also came in for you, alor.”

It was a communication from Holdan Lla, one of the True Mandalorians, about a Jedi and a Jedi ad. Jaster read it in silence. His anger at the governor seemed like a candle compared to this Jedi shabuir and the inexplicably poor treatment of a Jedi ad. It seemed that even if the governor’s betrayal hadn’t happened, Jaster would have been starting a diplomatic incident with the Jedi anyway.

There was a silver lining though. Bandomeer was only a sector away from Mandalore. “Get me a direct line to Keldabe,” he ordered. Hopefully, they’d be on time for the Jedi ad.

++++++

_““I can’t,” said Hiam._

_“Can’t or won’t?” asked Naured. They needed this information if they were going to save Kiri._

_“If I do this, it will break their mind. And it will break me!” As always and despite the seriousness of the situation, Naured got a little thrill to see the passion shining behind the Jedi façade._

_“Kiri and I will fix you,” assured Naured. As a Mandalorian, he knew that sometimes you had to make these sorts of choices._

_Hiam shook his head. “It would make me a dar’jetii.” His storm cloud eyes were filled with despair. “The Sith don’t care about ade, cyare. They don’t care about those they leave behind who love them.”_

_Well, osik._

_“All right. Then what do we do?”_

_Hiam was silent for a long moment, before looking up. “I have an idea.””_


	14. Feemor 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an awkward conversation is had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to note for those confused, Clan Kryze is not New Mandolorian at this time, though I imagine they have some members who are in order for Satine to get exposed to their philosophy.

The daylight was beginning to wane when Feemor closed the book with a sigh. Benin, who had finally stopped staring at him about half way through to take notes in a second copy of the book, was immediately alert. Feemor held up a hand. “Give me a moment to formulate my report please, Benin.” As if by magic, one of the Lallini appeared to hand him a fresh version of his favorite drink. He took a long sip. There had been way too many sex scenes in that book for two people on the run in his opinion. He had a suspicion that Benin was interested in more than if the sex scenes were accurate though.

“You’re trying to figure out who wrote this, aren’t you?” Feemor asked.

Benin nodded. “There are details in there that only someone familiar with both Mandalorian culture and history would know. I needed to know if it was the same for the jetii.” He’d dropped the nervous, formal way of speaking he’d used before.

“If you want 100% confirmation, you’d be better off contacting a Jedi archivist, but this does seem to have been written by someone with intimate knowledge of both the Jedi Order and the Force. Which is a bit confounding since they also seem to know more about Mandalorians than any Jedi I can think of.”

Benin was frantically scribbling notes on a pad. “Can you give me an example?”

Feemor thought about it. “The detail about beskar muffling the Force. I’m not even sure if that’s true, and if it is, it’s certainly not common knowledge.”

Benin, who up until now had been extremely focused and serious, grinned at him. “We can test it right now.” He leaned down, almost falling out of his puffy chair, to pull on his helmet.

Feemor focused in the Force on him. It wasn’t like he disappeared, but Feemor had to concentrate in order to get a sense of what Benin was feeling. _Vindication and a bit of elation at being proven right._

“’Muffled’ does seem to be an accurate term. Now the question is how the author would know that?” he mused.

Benin nodded excitedly. “It’s the same problem I’m having with the Mandalorian culture sections. Somehow this book seems to have been written by a Mandalorian Jetii, but the last one was Tarre Viszla, so who is it?”

Feemor had some ideas, but he needed to understand the Mandalorian’s motivation first. “Is there a reason you’re so eager to find this author? Are they in trouble?” If it was a Jedi who wrote it, they’d certainly be in for a scolding from the Council.

Benin pulled off his helmet. “Who wouldn’t want to talk to them? The book is a masterpiece. It’s approaching 1 billion copies sold.”

“It’s that popular?” he asked, keeping all doubt from his voice. Feemor privately thought the novel had been a bit cheesy, but to each their own.

“It’s been the top book in Mandalorian space for over three months. It stopped the civil war! Or at least put it on pause.”

Feemor knew he was gaping, but couldn’t bring himself to care. “How did that happen?”

“Well, you read it,” said Benin awkwardly. “And pretty much everyone in Mandalorian space read it, and it paints a very appealing vision of Mandalorian-Jetii relations.”

“I don’t understand. How does that lead to stopping a civil war?”

Benin focused on the wall behind Feemor’s right ear. “Did you know that Mand’alor Ordo was in love with Darth Revan? There’s poetry Ordo wrote.”

It took Feemor a moment to get the point. “You’re saying that this book has, what, caused a profound cultural shift?” To put it politely.

Benin nodded. “It’s not even that much of a cultural shift. Mandalorians have always admired warriors. We followed the darjetii before because we didn’t know there was much of a difference. But _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ explains that difference, and really drives home how similar our cultures are.”

It was mind boggling. Also, Feemor was already getting a headache imagining the report he was going to have to make to the Jedi Council. “So you want to find the author to… thank them?”

“Well, personally, I’d like to discuss their poor understanding of jetpack training,” said Benin, primly. “But many would want to thank them and just want to know who they are.” He paused. “Though I suppose there are also some of Death Watch who want to kill them. They’ve been losing recruits.”

“What happened when you contacted the publisher?”

“They said that it was all done via contracts with pennames. The author negotiated for all proceeds to go to education and hospitals in Mandalorian space, so they didn’t need their real name on anything.” Unspoken was that some enterprising Mandalorian must have hacked the publishers to get that information. “They do have a contact on their author page on the holonet, but you get a form response these days.”

If the author weren’t a Jedi or a Mandalorian, they might need Jedi protection if their identity got out. “Benin, I’m going to have to talk to the Jedi Council before I know if I can help you any further in your search. They might ask me to continue, or they may pass it onto someone else.”

Benin looked disappointed. “So you can’t say anything more?”

“I can. I just need to know what that is. It sounds like this author may need some protection before this is all over.”

“That’s understandable, I suppose,” said Benin reluctantly. “Oh, right, before you leave. Here is my com code, and here is my older vod’s com code. She said she’d kill me if I didn’t give it to the next Jedi I met.”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll call-”

“You should,” interrupted Benin. “Look, if you have any annoying vode, you’ll call.” Did Xanatos count? He thought back to the last time Xanatos had sneered at him over being born on a farm. Xanatos counted. “She will not only kick my shebs otherwise, but she’ll probably find a way to kick yours too. She’ll also be much more up to date on the, uhm, cultural shift if your jetii council is interested.”

“That’s a good point,” admitted Feemor. He’d like to say that he had a bad feeling about this, but if so, the feelings were all his own; the Force seemed… light. Happy even.

++++++

_“”You don’t need to keep watch here, Naured,” said Hiam gently._

_“I do! What if she wakes up and toddles into one of those springs? She can’t swim, and some of them are far too hot!”_

_Hiam was silent for a long moment. “The solution is simple then.” He picked up Kiri from where she was nestled in Hiam’s robes between them and placed her snuggly on Naured’s lap. “There.” Hiam scooted closer so their sides were pressed close. Naured just faintly felt him lean his head against his shoulder before he was asleep.”_


	15. Mace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mace catches us up on pertinent issues at the Temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your great comments! They keep me writing! I've fallen behind responding, but rest assured, I'm seeing them all:)

Mace was taking a break from reading _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ (which he was secretly enjoying) to investigate another issue that was nagging at the back of his mind. When Madame Nu brought up the fact that they had both Padawan Kiro being adopted by a Mandalorian _and_ Holdan Lla’s complaint to deal with, both of which probably stemmed from a karking romance novel, the Council had dissolved into a bit of chaos. Especially at the news that Initiate Kenobi was most likely _also_ adopted by now.

Then, on the heels of that debate where Madame Nu and Tyvokka advocated the Council read the book before making any decisions since it was obviously causing the Mandalorians to interact with Jedi in unprecedented ways, an order had come in from the Senate. One that ordered the Jedi to arrest or otherwise subdue the True Mandalorians on Galidraan for their crimes. The giant shatterpoint looming over that order made it hard for Mace to focus.

Fortunately, these other two issues with the Mandalorians had the Council assigning Master Dooku to lead the group with the caveat that he was supposed to investigate before taking any actions. (This was not what the Senate had ordered, but Madame Nu was correct that there was obviously some miscommunication going on here. If Mandalorian culture valued children so highly these days, someone saying they were slaughtering them wholesale suggested the report the Senate had gotten was wrong _or_ the Senate researchers hadn’t done their duty in fact checking the mission.) The resulting resolution of the giant shatterpoint at this decision had been a welcome relief.

In the end, Master Tyvokka had succeeded in arguing that everyone read the novel before they addressed their rapidly multiplying Mandalorian issues.

The issue that had been nagging at Mace was the one of Initiate Kenobi. He pulled up Kenobi’s file, which he had seen for the first time several days before when dealing with Kenobi’s supposed beating of Initiate Bruck Chun. The Force had told him then that the situation was the other way around with Chun targeting Kenobi. He’d been proven correct when they checked the cameras in the training salle where it happened. However, he realized with dismay, he had thought that was the end of the issue, and hadn’t looked further. Kenobi hadn’t been a bully, but he had reacted in anger, after all.

Yoda had used the opportunity of the more traditional on the Council, and the multiple transgressions in Kenobi’s file, to allow Kenobi one last fight to impress Jinn before sending them both off on the same transport to Bandomeer. Completely bypassing both the current Master of the Crèche _and_ the karking Council of Reassignment!

Even worse, now that he was looking at Obi-wan Kenobi’s file in detail, there was a strong pattern apparent. Kenobi was painted as regularly picking on other initiates, from losing his temper and fighting with them to interfering in their studies. However, whenever the name of the initiate he was bullying was mentioned, it was Chun. The Force once again insisted it was the other way around.

He pulled up Chun’s file, then stared in disbelief. Had Chun not even been disciplined for his stunt framing Kenobi? The boy’s anger issues were noted, but there was nothing about the manipulations and bullying. What the kark was going on in the crèche? He sent a message to the Master of the Crèche, Warresha, asking them to investigate.

He was on the final chapters of the book when he got a response, asking him to meet with the Wookie Master at his earliest convenience. Mace reluctantly put the book down – he really wanted to know if and how they rescued Kiri! – and headed for the crèche.

In one of the outer rooms far from the younglings, Master Warresha was leaking stress and worry into the Force. It was the first time Mace had seen the elder Wookie so upset; Warresha had been in charge of the crèche since Mace was there.

“Mace!” Warresha swept him up into a hug that Mace relaxed into. Even at his adult height, he was still dwarfed by the Wookie Master. The hug made him nostalgic for his crèche days. “Thank you for coming so quickly. There’s an issue regarding Master El-Mem of Squall Clan – the clan you asked me to check up on. I’m not sure if you know him but El-Mem is Arconan. He has otherwise been an exemplary Jedi Master until now. This was his first time leading a clan, along with Master Yoda.”

“Unfortunately, Chun and his friends have been using, either deliberately or accidently, his Arconan predilection for group decision making against El-Mem. They approach him in a group and present Obi-wan’s failings, which are often caused by Chun and others, as a forgone conclusion, El-Mem assumes the usual Arconan group discussion has already taken place and puts the blame solely on Obi-wan. Obi-wan’s friends in the crèche have successfully argued with El-Mem later to reverse some of his decisions, but Obi-wan himself seems to view withstanding the bullying as a test of his ability to be a Jedi.”

Mace closed his eyes. “Which it is, but not one we would ever subject him to. Did the Initiates admit to this?”

“Bruck did after much prodding, and I have talked with some of Obi-wan’s friends. I’m not sure what to do with Bruck beyond punishing him for his treatment of Obi-wan. The boy is not totally at fault, I feel, since Master El-Mem failed to spot or correct a problem that has been going on for years, but he also ages out in a month and is a mass of fear and resentment. He’s been sabotaging poor Obi-wan’s educational modules for years to lessen the boy’s scores compared to his. I fear there is almost nothing in Obi-wan’s file that accurately reflects his character and abilities.”

“Yoda will know,” pointed out Mace.

Warresha _snarled_ out what Mace recognized as a curse. “Yoda wants him for his own lineage! That is clear enough.” Mace understood his frustration. Yoda was the Grand Master of the Order, and even if he weren’t, nearly 900 years at the Temple held a lot of cultural sway with your average Jedi. When Mace was in agreement with Yoda, all was well, but going against Yoda in Council was a nightmare.

“I’m contacting the Council of Reassignment with this issue and will recommend that Obi-wan is returned to the temple for reassessment. I will suggest he is kept here for however long it takes to make an accurate assessment, and find him a place as either a padawan or in one of the corps he is suited to. We also need to, yet again, have the discussion about how poorly the Corps are being portrayed to Initiates. The AgriCorps is where we send some of our best minds and scientists! Those called to work with living things!”

“I agree,” said Mace. Even in his own time as an Initiate, he had feared failing out of everything and being sent to the AgriCorps. He knew it was nonsense now, but the persistent belief that the AgriCorps was for the worst failures of the Jedi Order seemed to be passed down to generations of Initiates. “Regarding Obi-wan, it may not be that simple. I recommend you contact Madame Nu about the issue and read any materials she gives you.” Mace was not technically authorized to share Holdan Lla’s complaint, but Nu would never let that stop her.

“Is Obi-wan okay?” demanded Warresha.

“Yes,” assured Mace, though he was suddenly uncertain of the truth of his words. “As far as we know,” he qualified. “He had an eventful trip to Bandomeer, but you really should talk to Jocasta.” The old Wookie looked down at him, a worried glint to his eyes.

“I’m submitting to the Council that El-Mem be removed from Squall Clan, and that Yoda be removed from the leadership of the Initiate clans. He will still be free to teach them, but his mistakes regarding Squall Clan and Obi-wan have harmed several of our cubs.”

“Thank you for the forewarning,” said Mace with a small bow. Warresha had an uphill battle here considering Yoda’s sway, but he had faith in his old crèche master. Mace would do what he could to back him when the issue came before the Council.

The worry was still present in Warresha’s eyes, but he seemed calmer now that he had a plan. “Come here, Mace,” he said and held out his arms. Mace willingly embraced the Wookie.

Wookie hugs really were the best hugs.

++++++

_“You see those four bright stars that form a diamond? That’s the head of The Mythosaur. The two fainters stars to either side below them are its horns.”_

_Hiam’s head was tilted back, eyes fixed above. The bright band of stars that was the edge of the galaxy looked like a thousand particles of dust. He had a faint scar on the side of his mouth. Naured gave in to the urge to kiss it before taking Hiam’s hand and pointing it closer to the horizon._

_“That bright reddish star is The Manda’s Eye. They are watching over us. Guarding us.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll finally be back to Bandomeer next chapter:)


	16. Bandomeer Pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holdan is a much better detective than Qui-gon Jinn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely reviews! For my American readers, have a great (and safe) holiday:) Next chapter will be Friday!

Holdan used his time waiting for the backup his Mand’alor had promised wisely. Meerel had forwarded everything the True Mandalorians had on Offworld and Bandomeer. Offworld’s organization was strange to Holdan’s practiced eye. The Hutts should have been at the top of the pecking order or answering to even higher ranked Hutts in Hutt space. Instead, there was a conspicuous gap at the top of the company. Someone was in charge and trying to hide who they were.

He took a transport out to the agricultural facility where Obi-wan had been. The scientists and workers claimed to have seen nothing. Si Treemba was very apologetic. Holdan felt bad about how short he had been with the young Arconan, and assured him that it wasn’t his fault Obi-wan had been taken. Then he headed for the nearest town. Offworld was crawling all over the planet, so it was no surprise he found some of their employees in the cantinas. Liberal drink buying, and some sabaac hands got him the information he needed.

Many of Offworld’s workers and miners were little more than slaves under a different name. They were indebted to the company and required to work off that debt while also relying on the company for all their shelter, food and supplies. Some of them seemed aware they could never work enough to pay off their debt while others optimistically expected to succeed despite the odds. The important thing Holdan learned though was that because they weren’t technically slaves, they didn’t have slave chips or collars. He very much doubted anyone would be able to hold a jet’ika like Obi-wan without them.

“Did Offworld operate prisons?” he asked his new drinking buddies.

“No. No. You piss someone up high up in Offworld and it’s off to the deep sea mines!” one of them said. Some of them laughed, as if the woman had told a joke, but Holdan could see fear in some of the miner’s eyes.

By the end of the night he had more details. Those sent to the deep sea mines “signed” a five year contract, but the death rate was sickeningly high with only 1 in 10 making it to a second year, much less five. The miners wore slave collars with bombs inside them; their controls were somewhere on the mainland in case of a revolt.

Kark. Either Offworld were drugging Ob’ika and stashing him somewhere, or he was being held in a deep sea mine with a bomb around his neck to keep him in control. Neither option was good.

He took a late transport back to Bandor, the capital city. He’d get some sleep then start figuring out where the bomb controls were on the mainland. The verd’e coming should arrive around that time, and they’d either help him storm Offworld’s headquarters, or take over a deep sea mining platform. Whatever it took to get Ob’ika back safe.

“Lla!” shouted Clat’Ha, the leader of the Arconan mining corporation. She was across the courtyard of the temporary quarters he was living in. Holdan looked at her then did a double take at the person behind her. It was a Jedi. He hurried over to her, eyes fixed on the Jedi. She was a short, young woman with blonde hair. Dark lips and sharp pointed ears hinted at something non-human in her ancestry. Unlike Jinn’s dark brown and beige robes, hers were such a light color they were nearly white.

“Holdan Lla, meet Jedi Master Fay,” said Clat’Ha.

“Well met, Holdan Lla,” said Fay with an impish smile. “The Force told me I was to come here to free the slaves, and that I would have Mandalorians with me when I did.”

++++++

_“”Can you truly tell what anyone is thinking?” asked Naured. The thought was a bit terrifying, and not just because he’d been lusting after the Jetii this entire time._

_“There are some Jedi whose skill lies in the mental arts and can, indeed, read the minds of those around them. But most Jedi are more like empaths. We sense emotions and feelings, though even those we shield ourselves from both out of politeness , and to keep ourselves from being overwhelmed.”_

_“So you can tell what I’m feeling right now?”_

_“If I focus, yes,” said Hiam. He reached out and placed a hand on the side of Naured’s buy’ce, tugging him a little closer. “The beskar in your helm muffles the Force.” Naured leaned in even more so their foreheads were touching in a keldabe kiss._

_It was not enough. Naured wanted to be closer._

_He backed up a step to pull of the buy’ce. Hiam smiled at him._

_“What am I thinking now?” taunted Naured._

_Hiam’s smiled turned sharp. “The same thing I am.” He stepped forward. There was a hand on the back of Naured’s neck. Their lips met.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering where Qui-gon is, he canonically spent the entire day stalking Xanatos.


	17. Dooku 2/Galidraan 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jedi arrive on Galidraan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the reviews! Your comments are giving me life:)

Galidraan was in the middle of winter. The governor was a thin, nervous man whose bulk was propped up by the heavy fur robes and winter hat he wore. His eyes darted constantly off the screen when they contacted him from the transports.

“You Jedi came just in time! The Mandalorians are packing up to leave in the mountains near here. If you hurry, you can just catch them!”

“We will catch them regardless,” said Yan. “But first I would like you to describe your attackers, Governor.”

“What do you mean?” asked the nervous man.

“What type of armor they wore, the symbols on said armor, who they said they were and who they attacked. We’ll arrive at your residence shortly so you can tell us more.”

“There is no time, Master Jedi! The True Mandalorians slaughtered political insurgents, women, and children. If you stop to talk they will escape!”

The insurgents and women maybe, but the children? Never. “Why did they do that? Who paid their contract?” demanded Yan, taking a step closer to the holoprojector. He knew he was an intimidating sight.

The Governor flinched. “I- I mean… I don’t know. They just appeared out of nowhere!”

Yan caught the truth in that first answer. The Governor paid them. The Force surged in agreement with this conclusion.

“We will be there in several minutes. Please prepare any images or proof you have of the Mandalorians’ actions.” He shut off the com.

“He looked like someone pissed in his blue milk,” said Komari with some glee.

“Must you be so crude?” asked Yan, rather rhetorically. He changed the com code to broadcast to the other Jedi ships. “Everyone divert to the Governor’s residence. There is to be no engaging with any Mandalorians until I give the word. The Governor is hiding something. I suspect we are walking into a trap.”

“I do like springing traps,” said Komari, grinning. Yan really needed to have a word with her about the bloodthirstiness she was broadcasting into the Force. She was never going to pass her trials in the future if she didn’t. Each time he had mentioned it before she tamped it down for a few months before reverting right back to where they were now.

They never made it into the Governor’s mansion, only the ship landing pad. There was a woman with short cropped, green hair standing in servant clothes near one of the ship’s ramps. At first, Yan thought she was sent to greet them by the Governor.

“Whichever of you is Jetii Master Dooku, I have a com for you from Mand’alor Mereel.” She held out the device which Yan strode over to take from her after assessing her in the Force. The woman was a little nervous about being the presence of so many Jedi, but there was no sense of hatred or deception.

“You’re a True Mandalorian?” he asked.

She nodded, coming to attention, even though she lacked the armor. “Aerta Kryze. The Mand’alor sent me in to infiltrate when we saw all the osik he’d been spewing about us to the Republic. But you should talk to him, not me, Sir.”

He pushed the button to connect. For a second there was static then the sounds of blaster fire and status reports in tinny mando’a. “Jaster, here.” The fight sounds became muted.

“This is Jedi Master Dooku. Who are the True Mandalorians fighting?”

There was a grunt on the other end of the line before the Mand’alor answered. “Death Watch. These dar’manda decided to make the stories the Governor told about us true, since you didn’t take the bait to immediately come slaughter us. Thanks for that.” The sarcasm was practically dripping from the com. “You want to come help protect these people, or are you going to sit on your shebs?” Strangely enough, the Mand’alor seemed completely certain that the Jedi were going to come help. It occurred to Yan that if Mereel had read _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ , he’d probably have a much better understanding of Jedi than your average Mandalorian.

“Knight Markkus. Knight Parvor. Stay here and interview the Governor. Make sure he doesn’t flee while we sort this out. The rest of you, divide into two ships.”

“Aerta has the coordinates. Mereel out.”

The battle was not far. A few minutes later their ships were touching down on a snow covered field next to a town. Some of the stone houses were on fire. The sharp whine of blaster fire and missiles muffled the shouts of the fighters.

“Iefan. Uwezza, go rescue and protect any civilians”. The human and Twi’lek knights peeled off. “The rest of you follow me. My understanding is that Death Watch will be wearing blue and gray armor, but we’ll get the Mand’alor to confirm. Remember their armor might muffle the Force so stay alert!”

The fight was centered around the town square, high stone buildings crowding around on all sides. Both sides were fighting on the ground and perched on the roofing tiles of the local buildings. They found the Mand’alor crouched behind a low stone wall with the other True Mandalorians. One of their medics was near the back, trying to treat a woman and her child. Yan gestured at Knight Trelane, who had some healing experience, to go help them. The Mand’alor’s armor was the silver of pure beskar with red outlining his visor and on his cape. He was, Yan admitted to himself, very dashing.

“Jetii!” came the cry from one of the Mandalorians watching their flank.

“Stay focused!” shouted the Mand’alor, keeping low as he retreated back towards them.

“Dooku?” he asked, helmet narrowing in on Yan with ease.

Yan nodded. “Mand’alor. Are Death Watch in gray and blue?”

The Mand’alor looked around, before pointing at a Mandalorian who was in the air with his jetpack, armor gray with bright blue accents. “Except for Myles up there, yes. And Vizsla’s armor is black.”

“Vizsla?”

“Their leader. Likes killing parents in front of their children.” He turned to address the rest of the Jedi. “Jango is leading a squad around the back to ambush them if any of you want to join him. Green armor with yellow and red accents.”

“Master Enurn, take six of the knights to join them!” ordered Yan. Enurn was a young master with long dark hair. “The rest of you support the Mandalorians here! Komari – ” Yan looked around and sighed. She was already on the front lines, using the Force for some exaggerated Ataru leaps and deflections. “Two!” she crowed. It took him a moment to realize she was competing with the Mandalorian, Myles, for how many Death Watch they took down. He sighed again as he ignited his own saber.

The Mand’alor chuckled. “Jango’s the same way. Always rushing into battle.” He took a shot. “I need to talk to your Council about the osik going down on Bandomeer,” he said casually. (Was this about Holdan Lla’s complaint?) “But let’s kill these shabuir first!” He raised his voice at the end.

A chorus of “’Lek, alor!” was shouted back. 

++++++

_““Perhaps you can clear up some issues I’ve been having with Kiri,” said the Jetii after they had been walking in silence for a long time._

_“What?”_

_“I speak Ryl, and she has some words she uses which aren’t standard or Ryl. I believe she picked them up from her captors.”_

_“Like what?”_

_“Do you wish to say anything Kiri?” asked the Jetii first. The girl shook her head. Part of the Jetii’s tunic had gone to make her a head and lekku covering. “May I say something?” This time the girl nodded._

_“When I asked where she had been, all she answered was ‘haran’. Is that a place in Mando’a?”_

_Naured stiffened. Just what had the poor ad been put through? “It means ‘hell’, Jetii, a place of destruction.”_

_“You can call me Hiam, you know.”_

_Naured shook his head slightly. Calling a Jetii by their first name felt like it might be a step too far.”_


	18. Bandomeer Pt 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to Bandomeer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A holiday treat for everyone:) No excerpt this time since the chapter's long enough already.

Holdan had spent his evening briefing Fay (as she had asked him to call her) on the situation with Bandomeer and Obi-wan. (She was, to put it frankly, a breath of fresh air after dealing with Jinn this past week.) Fay confirmed with the Force that Obi-wan was likely on the deep sea mining platform, then left to track down Jinn and the transmitters for the bomb collars on the slaves. Holdan, who had been awake for nearly a day now without rest, grabbed a few hours of sleep before his vod’e arrived.

They landed near the Home Planet Mine. Holdan had expected perhaps one ship of available verd’e that the Mand’alor had ordered out, instead there were three. One of which was an antique, to put it politely.

“When they heard a jet’ika was in trouble they came running. Plus the chance to meet Jetii and some fighting? Like tooka at the dinner chime,” said Vok, their leader. Vok was a Twi’lek male in the True Mandalorian verd’e. Holdan had worked with him before. The antique ‘enthusiasts’ were Clan Eldar, and must have recently switched their allegiances to the Mand’alor due to _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_. Holdan had heard they were neutral during the clan and civil war.

“They’re not going to enjoy meeting Jinn,” pointed out Holdan.

Vok gave a toothy smile, sharp teeth barred. “That shabuir is going to be the target of so many stray blaster bolts.” He caught Holdan’s look. “Don’t worry, Mereel said we can’t kill him.”

“I took a few pot shots at Jinn myself,” admitted Holdan. “But I don’t want our hatred of him to interfere with saving Ob’ika.”

“You claim him already?” asked Vok a bit too casually for Holdan’s liking. Vok was married, but Holdan didn’t know if he had any ade.

“I asked. He asked me to wait for his answer.” Hopefully, that would be enough to keep the more rabid verd’e away from trying to adopt his future ad.

Fay’s appearance saved him any further discussion of Obi-wan. Her beauty obviously captivated quite a few of the verd’e. She tossed him a strangely shaped piece of metal.

“That’s the key to get the bomb collars off. They’ve all been safely deactivated and their detonators destroyed,” she explained.

“Jinn?”

“Obsessed with that former padawan of his, Xanatos. When I told him where Obi-wan was, he assumed I would rescue him and gave me this.” She gestured to a lightsaber on her belt. Holdan had assumed it was hers.

“I thought his padawan was dead,” said Holdan.

“He’s turned to the dark side, and is possibly the leader of Offworld, according to Master Jinn. He had Obi-wan’s lightsaber on him when Jinn confronted him yesterday.”

Holdan had seen Xanatos around; a handsome, dark haired man being very friendly and helpful to the Home Planet Mine after their main mine collapsed. He had a fleeting amount of sympathy for Jinn since losing a padawan to the dark side seemed to be the equivalent of your ad joining Death Watch, or worse, the New Mandalorians. But it was no excuse for the man’s poor treatment of Ob’ika.

“We should leave and plan our attack on the ships,” suggested Vok.

They did. Communications would have to be taken out first so the overseers didn’t tell the Offworld main office what was happening, but it would have to be simultaneous to freeing the slaves, some of which might be deep in the mines. Lots of slave operations had standing orders for guards to kill the slaves rather than let them be freed.

During the stillness of the final minutes before they reached the deep sea mining platform, Holdan sent a com to the head of the Home Planet Mine, Clat’Ha, with all the information he had on Xanatos. He had a feeling that Jinn was not keeping her up to date, and that she didn’t know about the hidden Offworld explosives Obi-wan and Si Treemba had found.

Their plans had to be heavily modified when they arrived at the platform to find the slaves already in revolt. They must have noticed that their collars were deactivated. Unsurprisingly, Holdan soon spotted Obi-wan in the thick of them. He and a group of slaves were smartly defending the communications office from the Imbat guards so they couldn’t contact the mainland. Half the Mando’ade headed inside the platform to help the slaves, the rest began to work their way across the platform to the fighting around the offices and Obi-wan.

Holdan was in the middle of using his jetpack to maneuver closer to his future ad, when Master Fay took the field. If asked, Holdan would have said he expected her to pull a lightsaber from somewhere and start fighting.

Instead, she strode confidently across the platform, stepping neatly out of the way of blaster bolts before they hit. When one got past, she casually raised a hand and absorbed it into her palm! (Since when could Jedi kriffing do that?)

There was no more time to watch. He landed on the roof of the communications office, ducking down to avoid being such a large target for the Imbat guards. He crawled over to the edge, ready to drop the key to Obi-wan once he got his attention. But at that moment, there was a strange rushing sound. He focused beyond the Imbat guards just in time to see Fay toss Obi-wan’s lightsaber into the air – air that was now swirling with tiny particles of ore, blasters and whatever other small items hadn’t been tied down to the platform. She stood in the middle of the storm, untouched while the glittering black ore particles enveloped the Imbat guards who started to cry out in terror before choking on faces full of black dust.

Honestly, Holdan didn’t blame them. He was sure some of his vod’e found the sight of Fay right now arousing, but he preferred the friendly and dedicated Jedi he’d talked to this morning.

Obi-wan’s lightsaber came curving around the cloud, straight to Obi-wan’s hand. A second later it was ignited and Obi-wan charged into battle. Holdan sighed. So much for giving him the key to his collar.

Since the nearest Imbat guards were occupied fighting ore dust, Holdan took some shots at them while he jumped down to the ground.

“I have a key to get your collars off if any of you are interested.”

“I am not,” said one with pale skin and very long arms, then laughed. “No, I lie.” They held out a hand for the key. Holdan covered for them as they removed the collars, the one with long arms flinging them over the side into the ocean. Probably a good idea considering they still had explosives inside them.

Fortunately, Obi-wan came bounding back to check on his friends.

“Holdan?” he said, disbelief written on his face.

“Ob’ika. Good to see you in one piece.” It was sad that the kid hadn’t thought he’d come for him. “Hold still for a moment.” He fit the key in the bomb collar, removing the damn thing. The skin below it was rubbed raw with blisters and covered in streaks of ore dust.

The Imbat guards near them were all dead or incapacitated. Holdan gestured the freed slaves towards the ships, but was unsurprised when Obi-wan instead followed him towards the doors which led deeper into the mining platform. He could hear Vok shouting orders over the coms. The Imbat guards below had managed to barricade themselves in a room that both provided them cover from the attacking Mandalorians and also trapped the slaves who had been down in the mines far away from any access.

He relayed this information to Obi-wan as they headed down.

They found the Mandalorians on one side of what looked to be a cafeteria. Fay was standing next to Vok, eyes focused on the steady stream of blaster fire that was hitting a solid, metal table which was blocking the lower half of the door the Imbats were hiding behind.

“We have to free the rest of the slaves now,” declared Ob’ika. “They don’t get sent down with enough air to breathe much longer.” He stood tall, the red ring around his neck very obvious. Holdan recognized the shifts in the armor around him. His ad’ika had caught their attention. Thank the ka’ra Holdan had seen and offered for him first.

“Well said, Obi-wan,” said Fay.

“Thank you, Master Fay.” The kid sounded a bit bashful. Fay must have introduced herself while Obi-wan was fighting before.

“Left or right?” asked Fay. Holdan wondered if they were talking in their heads as well.

“Right,” said Obi-wan after a moment.

“Would you kindly keep them occupied for a few minutes?” Fay asked of Vok. He nodded, obviously curious to see what the Jetii would do. Holdan rolled his eyes under his buy’ce, and prepared to follow after Obi-wan. He wasn’t just going to let the Jedi have all the fun, or his ad charge into battle without him!

The Mando’ade intensified their fire, making the guards duck their heads behind their table shield and not notice the Jedi breaking for the sides of the room. Holdan had to drop into a run to keep up with Obi-wan. Both Jedi stopped to the side of the table. Fay raised one hand and the table simply lifted away.

The guards behind it were now perfect targets for the Mando’ade shots, while Obi-wan cut off one of the arms of a guard who tried to dive free. The table came crashing down on the head of another.

As Holdan was coming to expect from fighting with Jedi, they didn’t stop there. Both leapt over the pile of bodies in a running roll. Fay took out the last of the guards while Obi-wan headed for the door controls to the airlock which led to the mines. Holdan occupied himself making sure the rest of the guards were either dead or incapacitated. “All clear,” he said over his com once he was done.

The rest of the slaves were staggering out of the mines, clearly low on oxygen, but otherwise unharmed.

Obi-wan was frantically looking through the remaining breathing masks. “They’re all safe, Ob’ika,” said Holdan.

“I can sense two more down there!”

Holdan looked over to Fay who nodded agreement.

“We have verd’e whose armor can seal and has its’ own air supply,” suggested Lok.

“I can guide you to them from here,” said Fay.

Obi-wan looked torn. “Let them take point, Ob’ika,” urged Holdan. Obi-wan’s clothes were held together by threads and covered in black ore dust. Holdan could see red marks all over the kid’s body from electro-jabbers whenever the kid moved. They had killed the guards too quickly in his opinion.

The nearest verd’e with sealed armor presented themselves to Obi-wan like they were lining up for inspection. Obi-wan quickly handed them rebreathers and masks for the two mining slaves trapped below and they headed in. Fay had her eyes closed with a hand pressed against the wall.

It was several long minutes before the verd’e returned. One slave was walking now that they had air through a new mask. The other was slung over one of their shoulders. The verd’e marched straight out the doors, heading for the medics.

With them out, Holdan was finally able to convince Obi-wan to leave. Obi-wan wanted to check on the rest of his friends, particularly the long armed one whose name was Guerra, but the alien had sensibly gotten on one of the ships already. Then Obi-wan detoured to grab a small box with an incomplete circle on it from one of the offices.

The medic on the main ship, Tolzen, scanned Obi-wan from head to toe, then forced him into the fresher to wash the ore dust off, so they could bandage the multiple wounds across his body. Holdan was just glad there wasn’t any internal damage. Holdan went to hunt down some clothes for the kid. This also gave Obi-wan some privacy while the medic put a depressing number of bacta patches and bandages on.

When he got back, he noticed Fay was sitting against the wall in a corner of the infirmary, eyes closed while the box Obi-wan had taken from the platform hovered in front of her. She seemed unaware of how many Mandalorians were staring at her.

Holdan handed Obi-wan his clothes, but only watched Fay out of the corner of his eye rather than the lustful/curious looks she was getting from the rest of the room. The box spun slowly in the air, before there was a soft click. The broken circle on the top of it was now a full circle, which seemed to bypass the more obvious lock on its side. The box settled on Fay’s lap and she opened her eyes. The lid lifted off. Fay stiffened.

Everyone crowded closer.

There, nestled snugly in the box, was an ion bomb. If it went off, the entire ship and a few kilometers to either side would be vaporized.

“There was a box like that at the AgriCorps facility,” said Obi-wan, the horror evident in his voice.

Who knew how many more were scattered about. Was the entire kriffing planet rigged to blow?

Holdan hung his head. He really did have the worst luck.


	19. Jaster 3/Galidraan 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we wrap up Galidraan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews!
> 
> Regarding timelines, I've obviously moved Korda Six to just a few months before Galidraan. This makes more sense to me since Jango doesn't act like a seasoned commander who has been Mand'alor for eight years on Galidraan, and instead makes some big tactical mistakes (building your camp in a giant pit in the snow where anyone can shoot you like fish in a barrel makes me wince so badly!). These are mistakes I'd expect from someone new at the job. And putting Korda Six then let me save Jaster:)
> 
> Please keep in mind that the action on Bandomeer, Galidraan, and Feemor's report to the Council are all happening pretty much on the same day.

Jaster’s biggest worry about the fight on Galidraan once the Jetii arrived was keeping his verd’e focused, especially the younger ones. He had sent a sharp reminder across the coms just before they arrived that all their buy’ce were recording so they would not only have evidence of Death Watch’s atrocities, but also would have records of the Jetii that the verd’e could watch at their leisure. That settled most of them thankfully.

But Jaster had to admit fighting with the Jetii was distracting. Their leader, Dooku, was a tall, dignified man who fought with the economy of movement only found in experienced warriors. He directed the other Jetii into astonishing feats; the Jetii spending almost as much time in the air as those with jetpacks. When one of Death Watch broke through their lines from the air and launched straight at where Jaster and Dooku were standing, Dooku held out one hand and twisted. The attacker’s durasteel buy’ce crumpled. They dropped dead to the ground.

Jaster swallowed. Ka’ra. The Book had been right. That was both terrifying and, indeed, slightly arousing.

“Alor,” came Jango’s voice over the coms. “Vizsla’s fled.” Jaster cursed mentally. For a group that proposed a return to the conquering traditions of the Mandalorian past, Death Watch sure fled from battle a lot. Vizsla, in particular, was very good at covering his flank while he retreated. Jaster ordered Jango to secure anything left behind and withdraw.

“Dooku!” Jaster called. The Jetii had drifted to the left to protect their medics. Dooku called another Jetii over and headed back.

“Mand’alor?”

“Vizsla’s run. We’re just mopping up their rear guard at this point.” There were around a dozen Death Watch still sniping at them; the ones with slug throwers aiming for Jetii while the ones with blaster riffles went for Mandalorians. The shots were growing more drawn out every minute as either the Jetii or the True Mandalorians narrowed in on the remaining Death Watch.

“I don’t suppose any of them will surrender?” Dooku’s tone was a little wistful, like that of a man who had seen enough war. Jaster sometimes felt the same way.

“You can offer, but Death Watch like to sabotage anything they leave behind – both equipment and people. They’re just as likely to blow themselves up when you get close so they can take you out.” They had lost some good verd’e to such traps in the early days of the civil war.

“Fanatics,” said Dooku, voice dripping with disdain.

“Death Watch conditions all its’ recruits into their mindset with beatings and propaganda. They take them young, as ade. Part of the civil war was fought over them stealing ade from our people.” They had never found the body of Jango’s ori’vod, Arla, on Concord Dawn. Jaster suspected she’d been taken by Death Watch, and found himself vacillating between hoping she’d survived their training, or hoping she’d found an escape through death. He knew Jango often felt the same.

“And yet they’ve stopped due to this book?”

Jaster watched as the last few of Death Watch’s weapons fell silent. He was unsurprised the Book was becoming known to the Jetii. “We thought they had. I haven’t received any reports of missing ade in months. But seeing how many we just fought against? I don’t know where they’re getting their recruits, especially since they’re losing people due to the Book.” And due to their failed ambush on Korda Six a few months ago.

Jaster reflexively ducked when one of the buildings holding the last of Death Watch exploded. He hoped none of his verd’e were in there. Both he and Dooku moved to organize their people. Jaster set Myles to putting together their casualty list, ignoring the puppy eyes the man was throwing at Dooku’s ad, Komari.

The dust and smoke from the explosion were dying down when one section of the rubble began to shift. It floated upwards, supported from below by a metal table. Two of Jaster’s verd’e scrambled free of the resulting hole before turning as one to haul one of the Jetii out after them, seconds before the table and rubble crashed to the ground. From the lingering touches and hugs between all involved, including the rather dazed Jetii, Jaster suspected there would be a lot of ‘gratefulness’ that evening if his verd’e had any say in the matter.

Dooku came over, watching the scene with an unreadable expression. “I just received a report from the knights I left at the Governor’s manse. He has been arrested for conspiracy to defraud the Republic. The landing pad cameras show he met with Death Watch in his home. This truly was a trap for the True Mandalorians.”

“And the Jetii if you were supposed to destroy us,” pointed out Jaster. “Won’t he be tried here on Galidraan?”

“He shouldn’t be if the charges against the Republic stick. Fortunately, Knight Marrkus also discovered his collection of rare masks from across the galaxy. Including a Landarun face mask.”

Jaster grinned. The Landarun were a private people who lived on a pastoral world in the Mid Rim. They believed that the masks they wore their entire lives contained part of their souls. As an early member of the Republic, they had gotten it enshrined into law that anyone other than a Landarun having a Landarun face mask in their possession, would pay a fine of one million credits or submit themselves to the Landarun to work off their debt. That didn’t wholly stop people from trading them, but it did make anyone who didn’t have a million credits to spare, steer very clear of them. The Governor of Galidraan wasn’t nearly that rich.

“So at least we’ll ruin him financially,” Jaster said. He’d have to double check they’d been paid in full, but that was at least some form of revenge if he weaseled out of the other charges. And that was if some Mandalorian didn’t kill him once there were no Jetii involved.

Jango marched up, trailed by a mixed group of verd’e and Jetii. “Permission to pursue Vizsla, alor!” You didn’t have to be a Jetii to see that Jango was enraged at Vizsla escaping from them. Hardly a surprise considering the shabuir had killed both his buir in front of him.

“Have one ship try to follow them and report back. They are not to engage,” Jaster ordered.

Jango was visibly forcing himself not to disagree. Jaster stepped closer, initiating a closed com with his ad. “We will go after him, Jan’ika. It’s clear that every time we let up on Death Watch they use that time to grow stronger.” Concord Dawn, Korda Six and now Galidraan. “No more. But, we sent most of our verd’e away before the Jetii arrived and we learned about Death Watch. We aren’t at our full strength. So we’ll all rendezvous in the Mandalore sector and then approach Death Watch in force.”

“Alek, buir,” said Jango, punctuating it with a nod of his head. Jaster could tell Jango still wasn’t happy, but at least he wouldn’t go haring off on his own.

Dooku had ordered the Jetii with Jango off to help with the civilians while Jaster and Jango were talking. With Jango off to send a ship in pursuit, Jaster finally had a moment to discuss what he wanted with Dooku. He led the Jetii away from the collapsed building to an area which was not so busy.

Jaster pulled off his buy’ce. He liked how the cold air felt on his face. “Now, Bandomeer.”

“If this is about the complaint by Holdan Lla, the Jedi Council _is_ addressing it,” said Dooku primly.

“They had better do it soon because that shabuir, Jinn, has lost Kenobi!”

“What?” For a single moment, the Jetii calm had been shocked right off Dooku’s face.

“Holdan Lla is one of my verd’e. He contacted me today to tell me that Obi-wan Kenobi is missing, and Jinn is doing nothing about it. And that’s on top of all the osik this _Jinn_ already pulled!”

“Qui-gon wouldn’t…” Dooku trailed off, clearly realizing that Jinn really _would_. There was a flash of anger on the man's face before it was wiped away. “He should have reported it to the Council. Someone would have told me if his mission went even further wrong.”

There was something off about the Jetii’s expression. “Why would they tell you?” Jaster asked.

The Jetii was stiff as a board. “Qui-gon was my padawan long ago,” he admitted.

Jaster couldn’t help his immediate distaste. Granted, Jinn was an adult and Dooku was hardly responsible for what he did decades later, but it was still a mark against the Jetii. On the other hand, Jaster could now ask a very frank question.

“What the kark is wrong with him?” demanded Jaster.

He watched Dooku consider how to respond. “It has been over a decade since I have seen him in person,” Dooku said. “He was always stubborn, arrogant and unaccepting of criticism. He was also amazing with the Living Force, excellent at solving crises, if in somewhat unorthodox ways, and a brilliant fighter. By all accounts, his last padawan was very like him. When that same padawan fell to the dark side, Qui-gon rejected his first padawan and rejected the idea of having another. That is the only explanation I have for his poor treatment of Initiate Kenobi.”

Wait. The shabuir had rejected his first ad as well? Karking hell.

“Do you Jetii not have therapy?” he asked.

Dooku looked amused for a second. “We have mind healers. The trouble is that getting a stubborn Jedi Master to attend and benefit from them is somewhat impossible. Nor does the Council make it their priority.”

Jaster was unimpressed. “Remind me to explain to you our system for grounding verd’e who are unstable. Now, do you want to explain to me why Kenobi was sent off to an assignment he’s not suited to and before he aged out? Because you can’t blame that on Jinn.”

Dooku stiffened again before staring in Jaster’s eyes for a long moment. The Jetii sighed. “I’m going to be frank with you Mand’alor because I know yours are a very frank people. I would ask you not to act on my speculations until I have them confirmed. In return, I will explain the workings of the Jedi Council to you, so you may contact them with your issues. I am aware there is a great change going on in Mandalorian society due to _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ that has caused the Mandalorians to take more of a positive interest in Jedi than has ever happened before. I am also aware that Initiate Kenobi is likely to have already been adopted by Holdan Lla. It has been a thousand years since there was a Mandalorian Jedi, so his way will be a hard one, but not unprecedented.”

“Tarre Viszla,” said Jaster. “I’ve been wanting to compare our sources on him with the Jetii’s.”

“I happen to be friends with the Head Archivist of the Temple. I could put you in touch.”

Now _that_ was a tempting offer. “Very well. I won’t act on your speculations.”

“I have no true answers for you, but I suspect it was my former master, Yoda, the Grandmaster of the Temple. He is over 900 years old and prone to meddling in his lineage’s affairs. I refused to take on another padawan several times before he shoved Komari in my path. He is very fond of Qui-gon despite, or possibly because of, his maverick ways. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to find out he orchestrated the whole thing to help Qui-gon.”

“That’s an awful reason to put an ad in danger and ruin their future,” said Jaster flatly.

“I agree. But as I said, this is all speculation.”

Jaster sighed. There were an awful lot of people he was hearing about recently that needed a good kick in the shebs. He’d add this Yoda to the list. “Your info is out of date by the way. Kenobi will be the second Mandalorian Jedi.” Jaster had faith that either Lla would adopt him, or one of the verd’e he sent to rescue Kenobi would. “One of your padawans was adopted – with her Master’s permission – by a Mandalorian over a month ago. Apparently, they’ve already told your Council.”

He greatly enjoyed the look on Dooku’s face.

Jaster looked around. His verd’e were starting to wrap things up. “You can tell me about your Council on the ships. We’re heading towards Mandalore, but we’ll be dropping out of hyperspace periodically to check the situation on Bandomeer, so we can divert if needed. You and any of the Jetii are welcome to join us.”

++++++

_““I hadn’t realized…” said Hiam._

_“Realized what?” Naured was drowsy and vaguely aware he should probably climb off his lover before he fell asleep on him._

_“That the Mandalorians were adopting so many of the children they meet. The rumors say you’re killing and torturing them.”_

_Naured snorted. “Just like the Jetii steal babies.”_

_Hiam pressed a soft kiss to his brow. “It seems both our cultures have an image problem.””_


	20. Feemor 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Feemor (reluctantly) reports to the Council.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely reviews:) They are the reason I spent three hours today writing a few more chapters:D We'll be back at Bandomeer next chapter.

Feemor really, really didn’t want to make this report. The moment the Lallini learned of his need, they had led him to a large room with holoprojectors all along the walls and floor. (He was told it was usually used for some sort of game involving holograms.) Then they had handed him a cup of his favorite tea made just the way he liked it. So here he was, having to face the entirety of the Council virtually rather than one on one. He released his annoyance about how helpful the Lallini were into the Force.

The padawan in charge of the Council chambers had him on hold for quite a while. It was almost a shock when the holoprojectors around the room sprung to life. The full force of their regard was a bit muted by the blue tinge to the holograms, but it was otherwise very reminiscent of a full Council meeting.

He bowed.

“Watchman Feemor, you have an urgent report regarding the Mandalorians?” asked Master Windu.

“Yes, Masters. I was contacted by a young Mandalorian named Benin Kryze. He handed me a book and asked me to read it and evaluate its accuracy regarding the Jedi.”

“ _Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ , this was?” asked Yoda.

Feemor nodded. “It was, Master Yoda.” On the one hand, Feemor wouldn’t have to explain the book to them, on the other he was now a bit worried that the Council also knew the book by name.

“The Council is in the process of reading this book, Knight Feemor,” explained Master Tyvokka. “There have been too many incidents with the Mandalorians recently.”

“I see,” said Feemor. “Well… Benin Kryze made it clear to me _why_ such incidents are happening.”

“While we have not all finished reading the book, there is nothing in it which is all that remarkable, excepting the surprisingly accurate depiction of Jedi,” said Ki-Adi Mundi. “Madame Nu claims the Mandalorian sections are accurate as well. But in my opinion, it is not much different from all the other romance novels staring Jedi out there in the galaxy.” Feemor kept his face carefully blank. Just how many romance novels had Master Mundi read to draw that conclusion?

“We are also aware of how popular it is in Mandalorian space,” contributed Even Piell.

“I understand, masters,” said Feemor with a bow. “But I need to share the cultural revolution this novel is causing. I don’t think the Mandalorians ever had a clue about what Jedi are actually like compared to millennia held grudges and hearsay. Judging by what I read in the book, it’s the same for us regarding them. This book has opened both our eyes to a salient fact.”

“Which is?” asked Windu, who was always good for providing a dramatic cue.

“That our cultures are very similar; we both have codes we live by, we take in foundlings regardless of their origin, we have sacred weapons, or armor, in their case, and we value warriors.”

Evan Piell had a look of disgust on his face. “We are nothing like them. They’ve slaughtered entire peoples!”

“So have the Jedi who have fallen, who became Sith,” said Ki-Adi Mundi in a carefully neutral tone, which just so happened to always goad Master Piell onwards.

“Your point, there is?” interjected Yaddle. Feemor was grateful she saved him from being caught in an hour long argument between Piell and Mundi like he had last time he was before the Council. He pretended he didn’t see her wink at him.

“My point is that now that the Mandalorians have realized our cultural similarities, many of them have collectively decided to strengthen our ties. Kryze mentioned romantically, but I suspect they will also try to adopt.”

“One padawan, one initiate adopted, they have,” admitted Yoda. Feemor suspected that number would be climbing.

“Romantically?” asked Master Tiin.

Feemor fought down a blush. “Yes, Master. Romantically. I’m assured there is even historical precedent that predates _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_.”

Master Windu looked ready to bang his head on the side of his chair. “Do you mean to tell us that Mandalorians the galaxy over have collectively decided that rather than hating us, they want to woo us?”

“Yes, Master.”

Master Windu grunted in what was probably pain. Feemor didn’t know much about shatterpoints, but he had heard they were painful for the Korun master.

“There is another issue of some urgency I must bring up, Masters,” said Feemor. “Benin Kryze informed me that the Mandalorians and Death Watch are all hunting for the author of this book. They may need protection if they’re found.”

There was a long moment of silence while the Council conferred through the Force.

“Track down the author, you will,” said Yoda finally. “More answers we will seek.” It was unusual to reassign a watchman like Feemor so quickly, but the Standal sector really was quiet at the moment. 

“Kryze had some particular questions about Jedi in the book,” said Feemor delicately. He liked Benin, but he didn’t want to be subject to hours of specific questions about every detail of the book.

“Have him contact Madame Nu,” said Master Windu. He clearly wanted the meeting to be over.

“Thank you for you report, Knight Feemor,” said Master Tyvokka.

Feemor bowed and held it until all the holoprojectors had blinked off. He was a bit sad that his stint as a watchman was coming to a close, but also excited for the mission, especially since he’d managed to find Benin a better person to talk to than Feemor.

A few seconds later, a Lallini came in, took his tea cup and handed him his favorite drink, this time liberally laced with alcohol. Their need to satisfy their guests came in handy sometimes. He drained the entire thing.

++++++

_“Naured didn’t recognize the clan insignias of the Mandalorians attacking them and that worried him. He had no idea what a black or white star on a pauldron might signify._

_Hiam had sensed their approach and hidden Kiri in a nearby rock formation before he and Naured went out into the open to face the ten who tried to surround them. Naured guarded Hiam’s back and shot his rifle at the two in the air with their jetpacks while Hiam expertly wielded his turquoise lightsaber to slice through the unprotected joints of the armor of any Mandalorian who got too close. Slugs were dodged as if they were bothersome flies and not deadly weapons._

_Only once did Hiam need some help when his saber shorted on what looked like a woven shield one of the warriors in red armor was carrying. It must have been woven with cortosis._

_Hiam ducked as if he knew Naured’s shot was coming, narrowly also avoiding a blow from the beskad in the Mandalorian’s other hand. Naured’s blaster bolt knocked the Mandalorian back for a second, which was long enough for Hiam’s lightsaber to reignite and be swiped through the unprotected spots below the warrior’s knee guards, crippling them. Naured kicked the beskad and shield far away, but didn’t deliver the killing blow – he wanted to know what their clan was first._

_He scanned the area. Most of the warriors who attacked them were down. The others had disappeared._

_Hiam was panting lightly, eyes slit as he scanned the area with what was probably the Force to check their enemies were gone. Suddenly, all color drained from Hiam’s face. He ran for the rocks where they had left Kiri. Naured was on his heels._

_There was nothing where they left her but a torn piece of cloak and her water bottle.”_


	21. Bandomeer Pt 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Xanatos is as overly dramatic as the rest of his lineage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your reviews:) They got me through some grueling days at work this week!
> 
> Xanatos' plan in the book to blow up the entire planet was stupid, so I have fixed it. I feel like he should be paying me a consultant fee XD
> 
> In other news, I've decided to stop adding book excerpts to every chapter. Some of them are already too long, or I just don't have a scene from the book in mind which reinforces the theme or subject of that specific chapter. Rest assured they are not going away entirely. 
> 
> And with that in mind, several of you asked me to separately post the excerpts from The Mandalorian's Dilemma in chronological order. I have done so (you can see it as the second fic in this 'series').

Holdan contacted Clat’ha soon after the bomb was revealed, explained the situation, and suggested they search the mines for more boxes with broken circles on them. She commed back several minutes later to say that Jinn and Xanatos had come roaring in on speeders, lightsabers out, before the heavy fire from Xanatos forced Jinn into the mines. Clat’ha didn’t want to send anyone else in there with the volatile Jedi and former Jedi, but she would go herself once Holdan arrived.

They sped up the ship to a speed that would have probably had Bandomeer’s authorities worried if they kept track of such things. But first they paused to toss the ion bomb out into the ocean. If it went off soon, it wouldn’t do the planet any good, but at least the salt water would corrode the components eventually.

Holdan found Obi-wan, bacta soaked bandages wrapped around his neck and sprinkled liberally across his body, waiting at the door where the verd’e and Fay were gathering to be ready to disembark the moment they landed.

There were a number of methods that Mandalorian buir developed to try to keep their technically-adult-at-thirteen ade out of battle. None of the ones he could think of would keep Ob’ika in the ship, so he decided to try out a more Jetii suggestion.

“Ob’ika, is it the Force telling you that you need to be out there or is it your own feelings?” he asked.

He vaguely noted Fay turn towards them, startled, but kept his attention on Obi-wan.

Obi-wan grimaced. “I don’t know. Master Qui-gon needs help.”

“But does he need yours?” pressed Holdan.

Fay came up. “We have a few minutes before we arrive. Let’s meditate on the question, Obi-wan.” He and Fay faced each other then closed their eyes, oblivious to the eyes of all the verd’e on them.

They were coming in for a landing when they both opened their eyes. Obi-wan turned to him. “You need to know that ionite can stop electronic instruments inside your armor. Anyone who has vital life support gear in theirs shouldn’t go.” Since Holdan was working for the Home Planet Mine, he knew about the new and very profitable vein of ionite which had been found in the mines after the explosion earlier this week, but he hadn’t made the connection to it shorting out their gear.

Vok was nearby. The Twi’lek started culling some of their verd’e from the group. They might all have to be ready to pull off their buy’ce if their heads up displays and coms went down, but they’d take that chance.

“I’ll stay up top and help with the evacuation,” said Obi-wan.

Not that that would save him or anyone on planet if there were ion bombs scattered about, but Holdan figured it was better than having him down in a mine facing a dar’jetii and Jinn.

“We will meditate together more when I return,” said Fay.

Obi-wan smiled at her. “Yes, Master.”

They landed in the open space near the mine entrances, the exhaust from the ship knocking over the speeder bikes which had been left nearby.

Clat’ha was there, looking grim. “Lla, Master Fay.” She looked to the rest of them.

“Vok Faa of the True Mandalorians,” said Vok. “We’re here to help, free of charge. We’d prefer not to be blown up.”

Clat’ha had probably never seen so many Mandalorians in one place, and more were coming from the other two ships which had to land further away.

“You’re not going to all fit in the lift tubes. They hold only 10 per tube and most are occupied bringing the miners back so they can evacuate the upper levels. I tracked Xanatos’ lift to Core 6, which is our lowest mine. He overrode the lift with VeerTa’s access code,” she said sourly.

Veer’Ta was essentially her second in command. “Xanatos stole it?” asked Holdan.

“No,” she said. “VeerTa gave them to him, along with letting him ship his equipment and bombs all over the planet. She said it was for the good of Bandomeer and our mine. I’ve locked her up.”

She looked them over. “Nine of you and I should go down. A second group can follow, but no more than that. The tunnels aren’t that wide or large.”

Fay was obviously in. Holdan easily got the nod to go from Vok and the others, with little grumbling due to the urgency, sorted themselves into two groups for the lifts. The rest were ordered off to help the miners streaming out of the other lifts. Obi-wan went with them. Holdan hoped the ka’ra watched over him.

The lift down was crowded and not well lit. They exited to total darkness, lit only by the distant glow of lightsabers further down the tunnel.

Clat’Ha cursed under her breath and dove for some nearby controls, neatly flipping on a light attached to her shoulder so she could see. One of the verd’e stayed to guard her back, while the rest ran towards the fighting, Fay somehow in the lead. The distant lightsaber fight was moving fast further away from them. There was a change in the air pressure signifying they were in a larger tunnel when the lights blinked on. Jinn and Xanatos were exchanging blows amidst boxes of supplies, equipment, and explosives against the walls.

His vod’e opened fire on Xanatos.

Well, some of them did. Holdan would forever treasure the startled look on Jinn’s face when several stray shots came towards him at once, perfectly singing parts of his robes and crisping more of his hair since his lightsaber was occupied fending off Xanatos.

Some hit Xanatos as well, but his black clothes seemed to absorb most of the damage.

Rather abruptly, both of their lightsabers turned off.

Fay lowered her hand. She must have used the Force to power off both lightsabers. “Enough of this,” said Fay. “Whatever is between you two should not be condemning an entire planet to death.”

Xanatos laughed. “It’s Qui-gon who is condemning this planet, Master whoever-you-are, not me.”

“I’m Master Fay. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

The brief look of dismay crossing Xanatos’ face said that he had. For a long moment, he turned to glare at Qui-gon, then he abruptly placed his lightsaber back on his belt. “Your reputation precedes you, Master Fay.” He directed a charming smile her way that fooled no one. “What brings you to Bandomeer?”

“Freeing your slaves,” said Fay calmly.

“Ah yes, I had heard about that little kerfuffle on the mining platform. It’s a shame what my Hutt business partners were doing.”

“You claim to know nothing about it?” asked Jinn, a rather un-Jetii like look of anger on his face.

“Nothing at all,” said Xanatos lightly. He walked over towards another box against one wall, though he stopped when the storm of blaster fire at his feet came from the verd’e.

“Really now.” He directed his winning smile at the verd’e. “I’m just disarming the bomb. Wouldn’t want the mine to blow up while we’re all in it.”

“Stay away from the box,” said Fay.

“Why would you plant explosives so close to the ionite vein?” asked Clat’Ha. “You stood to make a profit as our business partner.” It was a pretty stupid plan in terms of Offworld’s profits, come to think of it.

“Just for you, Lady Clat’Ha, I will explain.” Clat’Ha made a face at the title. Xanatos struck a pose, gesturing at one of the walls where a faint vein of iontite was visible in the rock. “I have agents who have been buying stock in the ionite mining mission on Farout Station, whose price has been plummeting due to the finding of new ionite veins on Bandomeer.”

“Which you told them,” said Clat’Ha flatly.

“I merely told some of the members of my company, who passed on the knowledge to my competitors. I’m hardly the only one of us with an information leak.” He gave Clat’Ha a sympathetic smile, as if VeerTa’s betrayal had nothing to do with him.

“Soon after the explosion of the Home Planet Mine and ionite vein, the prices of Farout’s mining venture would sky rocket and I, or rather, Offworld, would be a majority owning member of their company, the only major source of ionite in the galaxy. Alas, all for naught now. If you let me disarm the bomb, we can all be on our way.”

“Why involve Jinn?” asked Lok.

“Oh that? Purely for revenge. I imagine the look on his face when he was trapped down here, unable to save the mine, miners, or himself would have kept me warm at night.” He gestured to where a camera was indeed hanging from one wall, though how much it worked at any given moment must depend on the ionite. All the verd’e were grouped in the center of the mining tunnel to prevent their electronics from going out.

“So, the bombs aren’t real?” asked Sennen, one of Holdan’s vod in green and blue armor.

“Oh, the rest of them are real as well, just not set to explode. I’m going to repurpose them for asteroid mining after this,” said Xanatos with a smirk.

“You think you’re going to walk away after this?” asked Jinn.

Holdan reluctantly had to agree with him.

“I have done nothing more than distribute legal explosives for mining across the planet.”

“You attacked me!” said Jinn.

“You’ve been following me around since you arrived on planet. It was self-defense.”

“You kidnapped Obi-wan and sold him into slavery,” said Holdan with a growl.

“I think you’ll find that little Obi-wan passed out at the AgriCorps facility and woke up on the mining platform. I wasn’t involved.”

“You had his lightsaber,” said Jinn. Holdan had to admit the Jedi had a point.

Xanatos shrugged. “Found it. No idea where it came from.”

“You just admitted to planning to kill Master Jinn and blow up this mine,” pointed out Fay.

Now a true look of ugly rage crossed Xanatos’ face. “He deserves it. You don’t know the Qui-gon Jinn I know,” sneered Xanatos.

Holdan snorted. “Yes, we do. The man’s an asshole.”

“He killed my father in front of me!”

“I’m unsurprised,” said Lok.

“Sounds like Jinn,” chimed in one of his vod’e.

Holdan smirked at how offended Jinn was looking.

“There were mitigating circum-” Jinn began to say.

“Regardless of Jinn, those miners don’t deserve to die for your revenge,” interrupted Fay.

“When Jinn left me alone on Telos IV with my home planet in the midst of war and my family dead, I turned my father’s failed governorship and company into a profitable enterprise. Offworld is thriving and so is Telos IV under my rule. What are a few miners compared to that?”

“A war your father started!” shouted Jinn.

“A war I ended and would have done so soon enough if you had given me the time!” shouted Xanatos right back.

“You were supposed to not let it start in the first place! If you had, you’d be a Knight by now!”

Xanatos went for his lightsaber again, but Fay stepped in between Xanatos and Jinn.

“I see why you failed,” she said to Xanatos. Fay’s face was cold. “You learned the worst lesson you could have learned from Qui-gon Jinn – you follow your own will over the will of the Force.”

The flash of anger on Xanatos’ face made him ugly. “You’re a slave to the Force and to the Jedi!” He cast his hands out as if there were anything to see other than mining equipment and a dingy tunnel. “I’m master of all I see.”

“You are master of very little, least of all yourself,” said Fay. Holdan kept his blaster carefully trained on Xanatos’ hands. The rage on his face said he was seconds from pulling it.

“This is what the darkside does,” said Fay sadly. “You care for nothing other than yourself, hurting others in pursuit of your goals. And your goals are such sad things – just profit and revenge.”

“My goals,” said Xanatos, taking a step back from her and drawing himself up to his full height, “are magnificent.” He jumped backwards towards the wall, which turned transparent at his touch and allowed him to leap through. It closed before any of them could react, but remained transparent long enough for them to see it held a second, concealed lift tube.

Jinn and Clat’Ha went to try to get through the door while Fay turned her attention to the box with the bomb. She easily used the Force to open the box. Holdan saw the timer had less than one minute.

“Put it against the wall,” he suggested. Fay pushed it there with the Force, right up against the ionite vein. It stopped counting down. They all breathed a sigh of relief. The verd’e in the back began rushing back up the tunnel towards their original lift; Vok ordered them to try to intercept Xanatos at the top.

Ka’ra. Had the Force had Obi-wan mention the ionite and its’ properties just so Holdan and the others would remember in time to stop the bomb’s countdown?

Fay knelt down in front of the bomb which was still being held against the wall with the Force. Sweat appeared on her face. Holdan got the impression that this was actually a lot more difficult than anything else he had seen her do. After a few moments, pieces of it began to detach, separating into a cloud of separate parts. The core went to her hand, while the rest went to the floor, still against the wall.

Holdan remembered to breath. Fay got up and handed him the core of the bomb, giving him a squeeze on the forearm above his vambrace in reassurance.

Those of them left down below rushed back to the other lift, even though they knew the chances of catching Xanatos were futile. Holdan wondered if Jinn knew all his vod’e were pointedly ignoring him. Only Clat’Ha was willing to stand next to him in the lift going up.

They opened up on organized chaos, the other verd’e still directing the last of the miners out of the lifts. One of the speed bikes was gone and a panting Obi-wan stood near it, an unlit lightsaber in his hand. He headed for them once he saw them, and Holdan took the time to look him over critically. No missing limbs or even burn marks – Obi-wan must have held his own against Xanatos.

“I tried to stop him,” he reported when close enough. “Master Fay. Master Jinn.”

Fay smiled at him. “Xanatos’ failings will catch him up soon enough.”

“Yes, it’s a shame you couldn’t stop him, but it’s to be expected,” said Jinn. Then he had to leap to the side as a blaster bolt hit where his feet were.

“Whoops,” said Vok. “Sorry about that. Blaster module must be acting up from the ionite.”

“What exactly have I done to so offend the Mandalorians?” asked Jinn, quite testily.

They were saved from having to answer by Sallsua, one of the verd’e in green, brown and red armor, coming up to Vok.

“Incoming com from the Mand’alor, alor’ad! He says he and our main forces are on their way, along with some of the Jetii. They can divert to Bandomeer if backup is needed.”

Vok looked around. “I think we’re good here. We’ll head back to Manda’yaim for rendezvous.”

Sallsua nodded. “He also said Jinn should check his com,” she said.

To his credit, Jinn didn’t bristle at the casual order from a foreign leader. He patted down his robes before finally withdrawing a battered com. He walked over out of everyone’s way to read and watch them. Some of the verd’e went either back to the ship, or to help calm the panicked miners. Clat’Ha headed for her people as well.

Vok, Holdan, Fay, Obi-wan and Sallsua remained. “He actually said, “Jinn should check his karking com,” said Sallsua casually. Vok snickered quietly.

None of them could hear what was being said, but the hologram that appeared was much shorter than normal.

Fay nudged Obi-wan to get his attention. “Yoda is very disappointed in him,” she leaned in to say conspiratorially.

“How can you tell?” asked Obi-wan.

“It’s all in the position he holds his stick. He was much harder to read before he got it. But I suppose back then, he was so adorably cute he could get away with anything.” Obi-wan gave her a doubtful look. “I’ve got the holos to prove it. Remind me to show you,” she said with a grin.

Jinn cycled through an awful lot of messages, though not all were holos. Finally, he returned to their little group, a puzzled look on his face.

“Obi-wan, your AgriCorps assignment is cancelled. You’ve been asked to return to the Temple when you can. The Council said your ‘buir’ is welcome to come as well, though I don’t know what that is.”

Holdan couldn’t help his surge of excitement when he heard that. He glanced at Obi-wan, but realized the ad’ika didn’t know what ‘buir’ meant either. Still, there was a lot of relief on Obi-wan’s face over being free of his AgriCorps assignment.

“I’ve been ordered to return to the Temple, and to avoid any Mandalorians along the way.” Jinn sounded utterly baffled as to why. Holdan hoped no one told him. Jinn turned to Obi-wan again. “I owe you an apology, Initiate. I should have reported you were missing to the Temple immediately.”

“It’s all right,” said Obi-wan without hesitation.

It karking well wasn’t! Holdan was seething. He’d thought that the Jetii at least knew they were missing an ad!

Fay placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “The Force tells me I will be travelling to Mandalore if you will have me,” she said to Vok.

That was the dream of many of their verd’e. “Of course,” Vok said. “You and Ob’ika are welcome.”

“Me too?” asked Obi-wan.

“ _We_ don’t send ade off alone on dangerous transports,” said Holdan. “We’ll go back to Manda’yaim, and figure out how to get you back to the Temple from there.”

Obi-wan nodded. “All right. Thank you, Holdan.”


	22. Jaster 4/Dooku 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the True Mandalorians, en route to Mandalore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for your awesome reviews:D
> 
> Timeline wise, Bandomeer is being wrapped up while this chapter is happening.

Jaster found Jango and Padawan Komari involved in what appeared to be an all-out brawl in one of the training rooms on the ship. Jango had his forearm pressing down on her throat while she drove her knees up into his chest.

Jaster cleared his throat. They froze. “No wounds that can’t be healed with bacta patches, ad’ike.” He waited until he had a nod from both Jango and a rather confused looking padawan before he left again.

Bonding with a good fight was a tried and true way to form friendships in Jaster’s opinion. He still remembered the brawl he had with Myle’s buir, Jarlanna, back in the day. She’d been an amazingly dirty fighter; Jaster still had the scar of her bite marks on his fingers. If she hadn’t been killed a few years before, he’d have had her as his second in command to replace Montross.

He continued his slow round of the ship, letting his verd’e see him and bring him any problems they had. It also allowed him to check on the rest of their Jetii guests and make sure his verd’e weren’t being too overbearing. Dooku, he knew, was writing up a report in his quarters (and probably drinking all the Corellian brandy Jaster had given him).

“Have you seen Komari, alor?” asked Myles hopefully when he spotted Jaster.

“She and Jango are fighting in training room 4.” Myles face fell, no doubt worried Jango was interested in Komari as well.

Jaster could have reassured him about that. He knew his ad well enough to know that Jango was just working out his anger at Death Watch on anyone who could put up with his brutal fighting style. “You could go join them. Just be warned, Jango is out for blood.”

Myles grinned at him. He’d no doubt end up in the infirmary covered in bruises like he always did after sparring with Jango. “Good idea, alor!” He hurried off to get his ass kicked.

Jaster found two of the Jetii in the mess that doubled as their rec room during downtime. One of the long tables was full of verd’e and someone had broken out the tihaar. One Jetii with long brown hair was having a blast flirting while they all showed off their scars and told the stories behind them (or so he assumed based on the random pieces of removed armor around the table). Another, a Mirialan male judging by the facial tattoos and hair style, was on the edge of the crowd, looking like they had a massive headache.

Jaster judged the rest of his verd’e were too deep in their cups to notice him, so he headed over to the Mirialan.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, Knight?”

The Mirialan nodded and followed him into the much quieter corridor.

“What is it you need?” asked the Jetii, all signs of pain gone from his face.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” said Jaster with a friendly smile. “You looked like you weren’t enjoying yourself, and I wanted to be sure my verd’e weren’t the cause.”

“Your men have been very welcoming, Mand’alor, and stopped their propositions when I told them I was not one for casual sexual encounters.”

Good. Jaster had reminded all his verd’e about consent issues the moment Dooku had agreed to his offer. Any Jetii who went to bed with a Mando’ade on this trip would have to enthusiastically agree.

“But?” Jaster prompted, seeing the Jetii was hesitating.

“No offense is meant, Mand’alor, but your people are very loud mentally now that you have your helmets off. I was having trouble keeping them all out, and should probably find my quarters and meditate.”

Jaster had a better idea than the Jetii’s potentially loud quarters. “We actually have a room you could use solely for meditation, if that would be better?”

The Mirialan nodded. Jaster led the way to one of the rooms above and behind the bridge of the ship. Schematics called it an observation room, though the windows in it were often kept shuttered since the prolonged sight of hyperspace caused most sentient beings vertigo. Jaster had renamed it the remembrance room when they got the ship.

They had lost some verd’e today, but the remembrances were short and had been done after dinner in the mess (they’d do a proper ceremony once back on Manda’yaim). This room was more for those who wanted to privately do their daily remembrances. Nobody was inside at the moment, but if they did come in, they’d leave the Jetii alone.

“This room should be quiet,” he said.

“It’s a room of mourning?” asked the Mirialan tentatively.

Jaster was surprised the Jetii had picked up on it, but probably shouldn’t be considering what their Force could do. “Yes. Anyone who comes in will be quiet and respectful.”

The Mirialan nodded. “Thank you, Mand’alor. This should do well.”

“Ba’gedet’ye,” he said automatically. “I mean, you’re welcome.”

++++++

Yan was pretty sure that agreeing to join the True Mandalorians on their transports had been a mistake, though it was not one he would ever admit to. Once on the ship, he had sent a brief message to the Council explaining he was continuing on with the Mand’alor, and that they should check up on Qui-gon and Initiate Kenobi as soon as possible. He had also sent a short and pointed message to Qui-gon, breaking their two-year com silence.

Yan had sent a good portion of his task force back to the Temple, but kept several with him on the Mand’alor’s main ship. The True Mandalorians had lost a few warriors in the battle, but none after the Jedi had arrived. Though there were some more severe injuries on the Jedi’s parts from slug throwers, there had been no deaths. Yan had felt confident enough to leave Master Enurn in charge of the wounded and transporting them, and their Governor prisoner, back to Coruscant and the Temple.

Despite undoubtedly having empty berths, Yan had already had several Mandalorians offer to share theirs with him, and he was sure the other Jedi were fielding similar questions across the ship. The Mandalorians seemed a strange mix of hopeful, lustful and anxious whenever they asked.

It was only after the next morning when he stumbled upon Knight Xha-Lon, sandwiched in between two Mandalorians, who he could only presume were zir rescues from that collapsed building the day before, an unmistakable hickey on zir neck, that the credit dropped.

(In Yan’s defense, he had spent the evening composing a much longer message to the Council and then contemplating just how much his wayward former padawan and (probably) Yoda had gotten them into a diplomatic incident with the Mandalorians. (The Mand’alor had helpfully provided a decent brand of Corellian brandy when Komari returned with their belongings (but not the alcohol!) from the Temple transports.))

He politely wished them a good morning, then left the ship’s mess to go find Komari. He hoped he hadn’t neglected his current padawan in favor of worrying about his former padawan and meddling master. Rather than hunt her down, he followed their bond in the Force to the other side of the ship.

He found her and several younger Mandalorians, sans armor, asleep on the mats in some sort of training room. They were huddled together like a bunch of young tookas. It would have been cute if they weren’t all sporting bruises, cuts and burns from a lightsaber at low power.

He took a deep breath. “All of you, to the infirmary now!”

Some of them jumped up with gratifying speed. One of them gave him a jaunty tap to the chest and a “’Lek, jet’buir!” as he limped out of the room.

Yan sighed. Mandalorians.

The second to last out of the room was Jango Fett, the Mand’alor’s son. He was sporting a massive bruise across half his face. He gave Komari a friendly punch on the arm on the way out the door.

Komari was left putting her under robes to rights. Her outer robes were in a pile near one wall. She grinned at him around a split lip. “Like what you see, Master?”

“No, padawan, I do not. I see a child who spent the night brawling instead of sleeping or meditating.” Not that finding her in bed with a Mandalorian would have been any better, but she was technically an adult and could sleep with whom she willed. He’d have just checked to make sure she hadn’t been coerced and left it be. However, her spending the night fighting, after a day already spent fighting, seemed like a symptom of the larger problem that was her battle lust.

Komari pouted, then her eyes lit up. “I was fostering better relations with the Mandos,” she said triumphantly.

“At the expense of your own training,” countered Yan. “Go get your injuries seen to, then meet me in my quarters. We are going to spend the day meditating.”

Komari groaned, but gathered up her robes and headed out. Yan held in his sigh until she left. He really didn’t know what to do with her. Qui-gon had been difficult as well, but in completely different ways. And Yoda was no help when you asked him for advice – Yan had given up on doing that in his thirties. Maybe he should ask the Mand’alor for some advice? It would be galling to do so, but Mereel probably had a lot more experience handling troublesome young warriors than any Jedi did.

He would meditate on it and see what the Force had to say.

++++++

_“Naured doggedly chewed on one of the ration bars from his supplies and watched Hiam do the same. Kiri had sharper teeth than them, but she was still having trouble getting through the tough bars. He took out his half empty canteen and poured a small amount of water on the bar, trying not to spill a drop._

_Kiri smiled up at him before returning to gnawing on the bar._

_“We’re going to run out of water soon,” he pointed out to Hiam._

_“I know,” said Hiam. “I have been following where the Force leads out here, but if you know of water, we can alter our course.”_

_There was somewhere around here with potable water, Naured thought. He just had to remember his geography lessons. “Give me some time to think.”_

_Hiam nodded._

_They were settling in for the night when it finally came to him. “Hot springs! There are hot springs near Taung’s Seat.” He pointed off into the darkness where the shadow of a mountain with two peaks loomed._

_“I have a weakness for hot springs,” said Hiam._

_Naured could picture the Jetii, relaxing in a pool hot enough to flush his skin, not wearing any clothes. “You’re not helping, Hiam,” he said with a groan. They couldn’t afford to waste a drop of water at the moment._

_He cherished the cheeky wink Hiam threw at him, even as he silently cursed at him. “Who said I was trying to?””_


	23. Jon Antilles 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jon Antilles gets covered in rocks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are all awesome:) Thanks for the reviews! 
> 
> Timeline wise, the first part of this chapter takes place at the same time as Obi-wan and everyone leaving Bandomeer (which is a week after the events of Jon Antilles 2), while the later half of this chapter takes place about a week and a half *after* the first part of this chapter. (I apologize for making this so complicated for both you and me lol)

Jon Antilles knows he answered some questions about his preferences on auto pilot. He was pretty sure they’d even been honest answers such as his lack of preference for his partner’s gender. But the truth of the matter is, the moment they had given him an opening, he had jumped over the table he had been seated at and used the Force to push himself into a run the Mandalorians would be hard pressed to keep up with without a speeder.

Force! He did his best to be just your average Jedi, following the will of the Force. He’d never taken a padawan, but that was only because he knew the Jedi Council would disapprove considering his unorthodox education under the Dark Woman. He’d been to the temple on Coruscant a total of two times in his life, but he did send them reports when he remembered and/or had the opportunity.

He wondered what would happen if he reported his situation with the Mandalorians to the Council. He snorted. Well, first they’d probably be shocked to find he was alive again. It wasn’t his fault that they took every report of his death seriously (some of them weren’t even of his death – he had a very common name!). Second, Yoda would probably tease him for being in such a situation.

If only he had a way to get his Mandalorian admirers to turn their attention elsewhere – like at Yoda.

He knew they loved children. Maybe he could contact Master Fay and see if she still had copies of Yoda’s baby pictures? She had shown him the holos once, and Yoda had been a disgustingly cute toddler. That would probably distract them. He’d just need to meditate and remember her com code.

++++++

Ossan was getting a little sick of his aliit’s hang up on the Jetii, Jon Antilles. His younger vod had used actual credits to print out a giant karking poster of the Jetii to cover one wall of her room. His buir had participated in that ridiculous battle for the right to court him. And his ba’vodu, who had no interest in romance or sex, was having way too much fun fanning the flames of their interest (There were _at least_ ten flimsi print outs of Antilles face hidden in compartments and pined to the weirdest spots in the ship at the moment). He swore the only members of this aliit being sensible were his ba’vodu’s ade. He was pretty sure that was only because one was already in a committed relationship and the other preferred women, but at least they weren’t bombarding him on all sides with holos and vids of Jon Antilles.

If he saw that karking cliff fight one more time he was going to scream. Or sabotage their holoprojectors.

He was on watch when he saw movement near the ship’s ramp. A group of the locals were at its base. The Gotals looked childlike with their short height, but also rather protected what with their skin of what looked like rock. Ossan was unclear if they were a silica based being, or if their hides had just developed to be tougher than whatever they faced living below the surface of the planet.

The Gotals had banded together to send an emissary to one of the planets few space ports to request some mercenaries remove a group of smugglers who had set up a hideout in their land. The request had sat unclaimed for some time until Ossan’s ba’vodu stumbled across it. (No one had taken it because the Gotals hadn’t offered any credits for the job, but it turns out they were paying in precious materials they mined from underground. Their aliit was making twice what they would have charged!)

Ossan headed to the ramp. Their craggy faces lit up when they saw him. One of them stomped hard on the ground, and more Gotals emerged from the underbrush, dragging what appeared to be a dead body covered in muddy, brown rags. Ossan surveyed the perimeter once before his medic training overrode his common sense and he rushed to check.

They were warm to the touch and human or near human judging by what little he could see of them under the pile of rags they called clothes. He checked for a pulse. It was very slow, but steady.

“Help me get them into the ship?” he asked the Gotals around him. Fortunately, one of them seemed to understand Standard. He made an effort to support their neck, though the dragging they had already been through had probably ruined anything he could do on that issue.

The being was heavy. Not only were their clothes sodden with mud, but the Gotals had tied tiny bags of rocks or something to them. Ossan wasn’t going to ask.

He made the final heave of the being onto his exam table. The Gotals all patted him on the thigh in a pattern that he guessed meant thanks before filling out.

He set to work, stripping (or cutting) off their clothes, and cleaning the worst of the mud from their skin. It took several passes since the mud was caked on in various dried layers. The man’s (Ossan was pretty sure they were biologically male at this point, but would ask when they woke up if that’s how they identified) face was craggy in the extreme, with the mud embedded in jagged lines across it.

Wait. There was something familiar about those lines.

He scrubbed harder, revealing the white of scar tissue underneath.

Osik. He glared at the print out of Jon Antilles face his ba’vodu had taped to the cabinet which contained the contraception and other sexual supplies (Ossan insisted his aliit grab them for themselves so he didn’t have to talk to them about anything). Then he glared at the origin of said face, somehow laid out in his medbay.

Ossan had read _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ , of course. But unlike his aliit, his fantasies had instead been to run into a Jetii healer in their travels. They’d bond over complaining about how awful Jetii and Mandalorians were as patients. (There hadn’t been an example in the book, but Ossan was sure the Jetii were just as bad as Mandalorians – there were too many cultural similarities not to be.) Their conversation and relationship would go from there.

He sighed then got back to work. Antilles didn’t even twitch while he stripped him to his underwear. The man was underweight judging by the ribs he could see. Finally, on his back, perilously close to his spine, Ossan found the problem. It showed signs of healing, but there was a massive, multicolored puncture wound there.

Ossan cleaned the wound and took a blood sample, hoping that if Antilles was poisoned, it was something common enough that he could synthesize an antidote. He had just finished taping a huge bacta patch over the wound when the Jetii stirred.

“Hrrnn,” said Antilles. One hand came out to pat the pillow his head rested on.

“You’re on our ship in our medbay,” said Ossan helpfully. “There’s a puncture wound on your back. Do you know if you’ve been poisoned?”

Antilles pushed himself up, barely wincing when it pulled at the wound. “I _was_ poisoned,” he explained. “It’s gone now.” He sat on the edge of the bed, and finally looked at Ossan. The Jetii froze, eyes fixed on Ossan’s chest. Ossan looked down to see if there was something other than his armor there. Just mud from carrying Antilles.

“You’re a Mandalorian,” said Antilles. He made to stand up, but Ossan gently pushed him back down. He kept his hand on the Jetii’s shoulder in the hopes it would keep him sitting.

“And you’re a Jedi. Now if you’re done stating the obvious, you need to rest and let that puncture heal before you move. A few centimeters to the side and it would have hit your spine.”

“It should be mostly healed by now. The healing trance got the worst of it.”

Ossan desperately wanted to know more about this ‘healing trance’ thing, but his patient was skittish enough already. “It still looked like osik a minute ago. Let the bacta do its’ work.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” insisted Antilles. “The Force takes care of me.” He gestured at all of him. There wasn’t an inch of his body that didn’t have some sort of scar.

Ossan patted him on the shoulder. “Yes, yes, your scars are very sexy. You’re also under weight for your height. Does the Force not feed you?”

“I’m not sure how long I was in that trance. What day is it?”

Ossan told him. It had been quite a few days based on the look of chagrin on Antilles’ face.

“If I get you some food, will you promise to stay seated right there?”

“You’re not part of that… Mandalorian fight club?”

“No,” said Ossan. He certainly wasn’t going to mention his buir or his vod and how they’d freak out if they came back to find Antilles on their ship. It didn’t matter anyway, he wasn’t letting Antilles off until he was fully healed and fed.

“I’ll stay,” said Antilles after a pause.

Ossan contemplated locking the door on his way out just to be sure, but decided it might freak the Jetii out. He went and grabbed soup loaded with extra nutrient paste, fresh fruit and some calorie dense cubes from Urlandia which tasted inexplicably like caramel, despite having little sugar.

Thankfully, Antilles was still on the bed when he returned, but he looked even more ready to bolt than before. Ossan handed him the tray, hoping it would keep him here. Antilles took it automatically.

“Why is there a picture of my face taped to that drawer over there?”

Ossan sighed. “My ba’vodu keeps taping pictures of your face all over the ship as a joke.”

“Why?”

“Because he thinks it’s funny?” And the reactions of his buir and vod were pretty amusing every time they found a new one in some hidden place.

“No, why would it be my face? Why are Mandalorians suddenly acting like this?”

Ugh. Why did Ossan have to deal with this? “Eat your food and I’ll explain.” He waited until Antilles picked up his spoon before he started. “A few months ago a book was published about Mandalorians and Jedi. A romance novel.” Antilles grimaced, but kept eating. “I don’t know about the Jedi opinion on it, but it captured the imagination of pretty much every Mandalorian who read it. This is what we, as Mandalorians, were meant to be; dedicated and brilliant warriors who fight to protect children, find a partner and achieve our goals.” Antilles had finished the soup. Ossan wondered if he could get him to eat a second bowl. He really looked ridiculously skinny.

“So the partner in this case was a Jedi?” Antilles asked.

Ossan nodded. “You really should read it for yourself, but it seems pretty accurate about the Jedi on the whole.” There had been enough reported encounters between Mandalorians and Jetii by now to confirm that. Including them being ridiculously good in bed. Ossan switched to staring at the wall behind Antilles rather than staring at all his very attractive scars.

“But, why me then?” Antilles seemed genuinely confused.

“Eat your fruit,” ordered Ossan. “To a Mandalorian, your scars show you’re a veteran warrior. Also, you karking took down an entire enclave of pirates by yourself while karking flying!”

“That was nothing special,” said Antilles.

Ugh. And he was humble too?

“It was special, but it probably didn’t help that they took a vid of it. I don’t think there’s a Mandalorian in the Outer Rim who hasn’t seen it. The only more attractive thing you could have done was, I don’t know, save a ship full of orphaned children at the same time.”

There was a rueful look on Antilles face that said he probably _had_ saved a ship full of orphaned children before. “Vids,” he muttered. He took a bite of a calorie cube before Ossan had to remind him. “Is there any way to get them to stop?”

“Well, yes. You can simply tell them you’re not interested. I don’t think it’s going to stop anyone from lusting after you or watching you, but they will back off on the sexual advances.” Mereel’s Supercommando codex was very clear on issues of consent. “My buir is a member of your little fanclub and can pass on any message you want.”

Antilles grimaced. “So there’s no way of just getting them to ignore me? It’s interfering with my missions.”

Ossan raised an eyebrow. “Seems like you could use some interference if it stops you from lying half dead, covered in mud while poisoned for a week.”

“I was fine,” muttered Antilles, but he dropped his gaze to the now empty tray.

Jetii truly were as stubborn as Mandalorians. “You could also just date one of them. My understanding is there’s been some solemn vows to not interfere with whoever you chose. Then you’d only be followed around by a single Mandalorian.” And someone would be watching his back since the Jetii clearly needed it.

“I need to meditate,” said Antilles, sounding a little desperate.

Ah yes, the book said that was good for Jetii mental health. “Of course.” It would also keep the Jetii still while he healed, so Ossan was all for it. He took the tray and turned the heat up in the room since Antilles looked a little cold. “Take your time. I’ll see that you’re not disturbed.” He’d do that by not telling anyone the Jetii was here if his aliit got back before Antilles was done.

He went back to the cockpit to continue his watch, trying not to let his thoughts stray to the Jetii on their ship.

++++++

_“Hiam’s “idea” was for them to strip their prisoner and the dead of their armor, and hopefully find enough pieces so they could both pass as these star insignia Mandalorians, then approach the base (which was hopefully in the direction they kept attacking from) and infiltrate it to find Kiri._

_Naured thought the idea was rather scandalous. Stealing or wearing another Mandalorian’s armor just wasn’t done. (Now, disguising your armor to look like someone else’s was a different matter.) And he couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that it was a non-Mandalorian (and a Jetii at that!) who wanted to do such a… sacrilegious thing._

_Still, this was a better thing than his cyare becoming a dar’jetii and not caring about him or their ad._

_Naured nodded towards the prisoner. “You knock him out and get his armor off. I’ll go collect the rest.””_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Ossan isn't going to ask, the Gotals were covering Jon in semi-precious stones to help him heal.


	24. Holdan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holdan's luck changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all your amazing reviews! Good luck to everyone who is going into exams or finishing papers this week!

Once they were back on the main ship, Holdan showed Obi-wan the room he’d be staying in. Fay was assigned a room as well, but opted to join Ob’ika in his for some meditation. Holdan made his way to the room he was assigned, just down the corridor. He shucked off his armor since it was dirty from the fight on the mining platform, and found a generic bodysuit for himself to change into.

Then he headed to find a seat in the rec room where he could just make out the exit to Obi’ika’s door. He was surprised when Fay came out of Ob’ika’s room an hour later and gently took Holdan’s hand. She looked up at him and simply said, “Ask him again.”

It seemed like only a second before Holdan was hitting the door chime, and responding to the soft, “Enter,” from Obi-wan.

Obi-wan was sitting on the edge of his bunk, looking tiny and bundled up in the adult clothes Holdan had found him earlier that day. More importantly, Holdan saw a flash of hope on Ob’ika’s face when he saw Holdan, even if he looked away as if ashamed at the emotion a second later.

The room wasn’t big. Holdan flipped out the flat seat that was usually locked flat to the wall opposite the bunk.

“Master Fay and I were meditating. Her connection to the Force is just amazing! She just checks in with it all the time, and follows its will. I need to be more like that. To be still and listen.”

“Like now?” asked Holdan, a little amused at the nervous babble. Draigons, Hutts, Jinn, and Xanatos, Obi-wan took in stride, but this conversation had him unsettled. Strangely, it calmed the nerves Holdan had had when approaching Obi-wan’s door.

Obi-wan flushed a little, but nodded.

“Ob’ika, will you let me adopt you? I swear by the ka’ra - by the Manda - that I will do whatever it takes to help you achieve your dreams be it as a Jedi, or a Mandalorian or as both!” He punctuated the statement by thumping his first across his chest, a salute to the brilliant ad across from him.

“Are you sure?” asked Obi-wan. “I was always in trouble at the Temple, and I don’t think that has changed since I left.” He gestured at the bandages around his neck, as if that were his fault. “And Master Fay thinks it’s all going to turn out all right, but I know this is going to cause you trouble!”

Holdan made sure Obi-wan’s eyes were trained on his before he responded. He wanted to be very clear. “Obi-wan Kenobi, you are not a burden or obligation I’m taking on. You are wanted.” There were tears in both their eyes now. “And even if you do cause trouble, you are worth every second of it.”

Obi-wan launched himself into Holdan’s arms with a faint sob. They both just gave into the tears for a few minutes. Holdan was so thankful he was going to have the opportunity to help Obi-wan the same way Holdan’s buir had helped him.

Finally, he said, “Is that a yes, Ob’ika?”

He felt the nod against his chest. “Yes,” said Obi-wan looking up.

“Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Obi-wan Kenobi. That means you are my ad now, Ob’ika.”

“What do I call you now?”

“You can call me ‘buir’ – that’s parent in Mando’a. But Holdan or Hol’buir are fine as well if you want to use my name.”

Obi-wan nodded. “Buir,” he said, testing out the word.

Holdan couldn’t stop his smile.

++++++

Holdan had exited Obi-wan’s room, intent on getting his ad some food, to a mass of hearty congratulations from what felt like every Mando’ade on the ship. He turned down the drinks they pressed on him to return with food for Obi-wan, but found the exhausted kid asleep. Holdan made sure he was under the blanket and that the lights were off before exiting, unable to keep the smile off his face. He was a buir! 

The food went back to the mess. Only then did Holdan feel free to accept some of the congratulatory drinks. He should have headed to sleep then, but he was content to sit at one of the benches in the mess and listen to his vod’e tell stories about their own ade and adoptions. He was not sure when Fay appeared by his side again, her cheeks flushed with alcohol.

“Some of them are very jealous,” she leant in to whisper in his ear. Holdan had no doubt about that.

“Ob’ika is amazing, that’s why,” he told her. She laughed.

“He is. He’s got a very strong Force presence for someone his age.” She sobered a little. “I should tell you as his parent that he bonds very easily in the Force.” Holdan ushered her to the other side of the room, away from the current storyteller.

“What does that mean?” he asked once they were in a quieter area.

“Jedi tend to form mental bonds with others – usually other Force sensitives – around them. This is encouraged, within reason, though as Jedi we must also be ready to lose those bonds.” She was drunkenly punctuating everything she said with flailing hand gestures. It was very cute. “Obi-wan forms bonds easily, so his mind’s been floundering without the support from the bonds he has with his friends at the Temple. He’s been unconsciously attempting to latch on to any Force sensitive he meets.”

“So what? He’s bonded with that shabuir Jinn?” hissed Holdan. That was 100% not happening!

“Not now. But he was halfway there before our meditation. I’ve disentangled them, so to speak, and put in a temporary bond of our own to keep him stable.”

“Temporary?” asked Holdan, unable to keep the dismay out of his voice. He’d been hoping she’d be Obi-wan’s master. No doubt Ob’ika hoped the same.

She frowned, and opened her mouth to speak before closing it again. Instead, she shut her eyes and just sat there for a minute. When she opened them, her gaze was clear and steady. She must have caught his confusion.

“I was clearing the alcohol from my system,” she explained. “Why don’t we go to one of our quarters?”

Holdan’s room was slightly closer. They both sat next to each other on the bunk.

“The Force tells me I’m not meant to be Obi-wan’s master,” said Fay bluntly. “In some ways, I wish I was. Each padawan I’ve trained has brought me great joy even as I braced myself for the sorrow of losing them. It’s been a few hundred years since the last one. I miss it.”

“A few hundred years?” echoed Holdan. She looked like she was in her twenties for a human.

She brushed one hand along a pointed ear. “A combination of genetics and the Force. I was born before The Mandalorian Wars actually.”

It wasn’t like long lived species were unheard of in the galaxy, but the majority tended to not look very human. “That must be difficult,” said Holdan. He couldn’t imagine constantly outliving his ade, over and over again.

She took his hand. “It is, but the Force keeps me busy. I don’t think I’ve been this close to even the Mid Rim in centuries.”

“Do the Jedi even know you’re alive?” he asked.

She laughed. “They do. I run into other Jedi sometimes, or they track me down when they need something. In fact, there’s a number of Jedi who got fed up with the rules of either the Council or the Senate and are just wandering the Outer Rim, following the will of the Force.”

Holdan was pretty sure those were the ones who often showed up in reports from his fellow Mando’ade. “Can one of them fly?”

“Most of us Outer Rim Jedi can, to be honest, but I know who you mean since he’s particularly good at it - Jon Antilles.”

It was also the most common name in the galaxy. Holdan had assumed it was a placeholder for the Jedi’s actual name, but maybe it really was the poor Jedi’s name.

“Obi-wan will still need help until I can find him a master,” he said. “You can teach him the basics at least?”

She squeezed his hand in reassurance. “Yes. I can certainly help him with the mental arts while I’m on Mandalore. I’m afraid I haven’t held a lightsaber in several centuries, so I can’t help him with that. I suspect that’s another reason the Force says he’s meant for another – Obi-wan is destined to be a great Jedi warrior.”

Holdan figured even the Jedi and the ka’ra could see Obi-wan’s mandakarla. “He’s an amazing fighter already,” he bragged. By his understanding, a Jedi going around without a lightsaber was the equivalent of a Mandalorian going without their armor. It must be a subject of great pain so he’d avoid asking her about it. Looking down, he realized she still had his hand. He squeezed it reassuringly. She gave him a small, grateful smile.

“You know, the other Mandalorians were also very jealous when I left the mess with you,” said Fay.

“They probably think we’ve come here to kark,” explained Holdan, a little embarrassed by his vod’e. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind since his mistake with Jinn. He’d be happy to call Fay a friend, and leave it at that.

The Jedi had other ideas. “Why don’t we make their jealously a reality then?” she asked. She tugged his hand toward her. Holdan went.


	25. Jocasta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jocasta catches up on her coms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for your wonderful reviews:D 
> 
> Fun Fact: Everyone on the Council of Reassignment here is a canon character from either Disney or Legends, though poor Plett doesn't have his own tag here on AO3.

Jocasta had the dubious honor of having been a member of every council in the temple from the High Council to the Council of First Knowledge, the Council of Reconciliation and the Council of Reassignment. This usually meant she got a lot of unwanted transcripts from each session which she felt duty bound to waste precious research time skimming. However, the transcript that came to her that day from the Council of Reassignment was of particular interest. She settled in to read it with a nice cup of tea in the oversized, unspillable mug her first padawan had given her.

First day of Selona, 956 ARR

Present were the following Council Members: Jedi Masters Yaddle, Coleman Trebor, T’ra Saa (representing the MediCorps), Plett (representing the AgriCorps) and Tahl (representing the ExplorCorps and EduCorps)

Also present were: Jedi Master Yoda, Grand Master of the Order, and Jedi Master Warresha, Master of the Crèche

**Yaddle** : Begin the meeting now, we will. Much to discuss with our guests, we have.

**Warresha** : Thank you for addressing this matter so quickly.

**Coleman Trebor** : We are here to discuss the issue of Initiate Obi-wan Kenobi, whose assignment to the AgriCorps we, the Council of Reassignment, were not aware of.

**Plett** : I have looked over Obi-wan’s grades and aptitudes. There is nothing indicating he would be suited for the AgriCorps. His scores in biology, botany and chemistry are middling.

**Warresha** : His education has been sabotaged.

**Tahl** : Sabotaged?

**Warresha** : Another initiate, Bruck Chun, who I must also bring before the council on a separate day, destroyed or sabotaged his homework modules, essays and work whenever possible.

**Tahl** : Why didn’t the clan initiate master address this?

**Warresha** : They were inexperienced and misled.

**T’ra Saa** : Master Yoda, you are the Squall Clan leader along with El-Mem. Did you not notice this bullying?

**Yoda** : Thought it normal initiate rivalry, I did. Oversee course assignments, I do not.

**Coleman Trebor** : And in lightsaber forms?

**Yoda** : Aggressive, they both were. Fight defensively, Obi-wan does until Chun goads him to greater heights. Obi-wan the more technically proficient, he is. Great duelist, he will become.

**T’ra Saa** : It sounds to me, Yoda, that you let this rivalry continue because you thought it made Obi-wan a better fighter.

**Yoda** : Good practice it was for Obi-wan.

**Plett** : You had already given up on Chun?

**Yoda** : Much anger and fear I sense in Chun.

**Tahl** : Master Yoda, Chun is a human preteen. They’re all either angry and afraid at that age, or too proud to admit it.

**T’ra Saa** : We’re getting side tracked. Chun is a matter for another day.

**Plett** : Good point, Master Saa. Master Yoda, why was Initiate Kenobi assigned to the AgriCorps without consulting this council and with only apparently middling scores in the appropriate disciplines? We have no idea if he is even capable of fulfilling his duties there.

**Yoda** : Capable of anything he puts his mind to, Obi-wan is. This I have seen. Trip to Bandomeer, confirms.

**T’ra Saa** : That doesn’t answer our question. For centuries, I have heard you talk about upholding the traditions of the Jedi Order. One of those is that the Council of Reassignment deals with the initiates and their trials.

**Yoda** : A great Jedi, Obi-wan will be. This, the Force tells me. Kenobi and Jinn a great pair, they make.

**Yaddle** : See them in the Force as a great pair, did you?

**Yoda** : Nearly 900 years of experience, I have. Know when a student suits a teacher, I do.

**Tahl** : Maybe they were suited before Xanatos, but if this complaint from Holdan Lla is anything to go by, they aren’t now. Qui-gon is as stubborn as a bantha about not taking another padawan, and treated Obi-wan poorly as a result.

**Yoda** : If not for the Mandalorians, accepted him Qui-gon would have.

**Plett** : So you had absolutely no intention of Initiate Kenobi actually joining the AgriCorps?

**T’ra Saa** : Your recommendation is also missing from the initiate’s file. If you had stated you thought he would be a great Jedi, he would have been snapped up by a master much sooner than this.

**Yoda** : Needed tempering, Obi-wan did.

**Tahl** : Not at the expense of his well-being! Apologies, Masters. I feel strongly about this.

**Warresha** : I believe we all feel we have failed cub Obi-wan. I am recommending he be assessed in all his studies so we can place him better, but it doesn’t sit well with me that we’re essentially going to subject him to a series of exams on everything the moment he returns.

**T’ra Saa** : If he returns. Just why does half the Council think he was adopted?

**Yoda** : Great changes happening with the Mandalorians, there are. Already adopted Padawan Kiro, they have.

**Coleman Trebor** : How is that going to work?

**Yoda** : Know not, we do.

**Tahl** : There has been Mandalorian Jedi before.

**Yoda** : Compiling all we know, Madame Nu is.

Oh yes! That reminded her; she had a much more interesting com to read.

Jocasta skimmed the rest of the transcript. There was little the Council of Reassignment could do until Obi-wan returned. (Her sources within the main council had already told her that it had been decided to ask the initiate to return when he could, even with his Mandalorian buir.) The Council of Reassignment would recommend the removal of El-Mem and Yoda from Squall Squad leadership. Of course, they had to get that past the main council. El-Mem they would probably succeed on, but Yoda? She wished them luck. (She also sent them copies of _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ to read, though Tahl should already have one.)

That done, she pulled up the com she had received from Mand’alor Jaster Mereel. It was short and to the point about their collaborating on Tarre Vizsla research, but attached was a much longer document. She opened it up to find an impeccably organized text, arranged chronologically to document Tarre Vizsla’s life, with several paragraphs discussing the reliability of the Mandalorian sources, and the issues regarding translation of ancient Mando’a. There were gaps in the document in several places, most often regarding his actions as a Jedi. (Mereel had just written question marks across the entire section on the darksaber for example.) There were also footnotes, and an extensive bibliography.

She smiled and went back to the top of the document, ready to read it in depth now. Hopefully, she could meet the Mand’alor at some point. She did like a man who could research.

++++++

_Osik._

_Osik._

_It was one thing to let the Jetii fight off his enemies; Naured was supposed to be on patrol, and he didn’t know these Mando’ade attacking the Jetii. But the Jetii hadn’t had time to hide the ad this time. Her cries of terror tugged at his heart._

_One of the attacking warriors turned his blaster on the poorly concealed ad. That dar’manda!_

_He’d been watching the fight in his scope like before. He took in a quick, steadying breath, then calmly pulled the trigger, hitting the attacker right in the back. There was armor back there so all it did was make them stumble, but it was enough._

_Naured activated his jetpack. He’d take pot shots with his rifle while descending. These dar’manda were not going to hurt an ad on his watch._


	26. Jaster 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which long, online meetings suck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all to your wonderful reviews! Updates are probably going to be a little more sporadic as we lead up to the new year since I have a bunch of job apps and what not due. 
> 
> Next chapter is Mace.

After ending the com, Jaster removed his buy’ce with a sigh, and started massaging his temples. That had been a very long meeting.

Jango came up and leaned his buy’ce, forehead first, against Jaster’s shoulder pauldron. “Not sure I want to be Mand’alor, buir, if that’s what it’s like.”

Jaster chuckled and patted his ad’s buy’ce. “The New Mandalorians are worse. They’ll talk for hours, and treat you with disdain the entire time.”

“Ugh,” groaned Jango. Since Dooku was present, Jaster refrained from suggesting that whatever Jetii riduur Jango found should be good at politics and negotiations.

Speaking of, he looked over at Dooku, who was staring at the holoprojector, lost in thought.

“Was that typical?” he asked of the Jetii.

“The Council doesn’t move fast, especially over such momentous issues. As I said before, you should not expect any quick answers.”

Jaster hadn’t gotten many answers at all in the meeting. Some concessions, yes, but not many answers; Jinn would be forced into therapy once he arrived back at the temple. (Jaster just had to hope he avoided all Mandalorians while he returned or else he might end up shot or spaced.) He’d been assured that whatever issue had caused Kenobi to be sent off before his time had been or was being addressed (Jaster would believe that when he saw it). The Council had also been in agreement that Mandalorian Jedi were happening again in the form of Padawan Kiro and Kenobi. What they couldn’t agree on was what form that would take.

His work with Jocasta Nu on Tarre Vizsla would take them awhile. She had been present at the Council meeting, but admitted she was still in the process of hunting down holocrons from the time period which mentioned Vizsla. (Jaster was hoping they could figure out how the darksaber had ended up back in the temple after Vizsla’s death. He had been Mand’alor after all, and Jaster sincerely doubted Clan Vizsla would have given it up willingly, especially considering they had stolen it back several years later.)

Jaster _had_ managed to introduce several pertinent issues during the council meeting, though whether they’d bear fruit remained to be seen.

His first point had been on the compatibility of the Resol’nare to Jetii life. Education and armor, self-defense, our clan, our language, our leader. Jaster had anticipated their objections to the “leader” part. Fortunately, since he was Mand’alor, he could and did suggest the compromise of substituting the _ka’ra_ i.e. the Force in for the leader instead. The rest of the tenets the Jetii should have no problem with since their members were allowed, and in fact, encouraged to embrace the customs of their birth culture, and their clan could be viewed as the Jedi themselves.

If only it had been that simple. The Jedi Council spent nearly an hour picking apart each aspect of the Resol’nare. Jaster, oddly, hadn’t had to say much as the council seemed to have several factions supporting and fighting against various parts. In the end, no conclusion had been reached and there must have been an even fiercer debate going on mentally since there was a good five minutes where the Council had simply stared at each other in silence while Jaster, Jango and Dooku stood there awkwardly.

Next, Jaster had brought up the idea of Mandalorians and Jetii working together on some missions, especially ones where the Jetii needed backup. His Mando’ade seemed rather evenly split on wanting to either protect the Jetii doing risky things that they ran into, or just wanting a fun battle for a good cause.

That suggestion had not gone over well, though the only objection to the idea Jaster agreed with was that the Senate might be up in arms about Jetii working with a people who weren’t members of the Republic. (Their warmongering reputation was irrelevant in Jaster’s opinion. Plus the Senate’s poor fact checking had almost gotten the Haat Mando’ade killed a few days ago, so he was inclined not to care what they thought.) Of course, the only government the Senate acknowledged on Manda’yaim was the New Mandalorians, despite them being an even smaller percentage of the population than Death Watch.

Then Jaster had introduced discussing their no attachment rule with the hopes of segueing into explaining that Mandalorian wedding vows didn’t actually interfere with them since there was nothing in the vows about honoring your riduur above all others. He never made it that far. He thought back to what had derailed the end of the meeting.

_“No attachment is a rule for a reason. It keeps Jedi in the light!” said Even Piell._

_Jaster sighed. “Has it made a difference?”_

_“What do you mean?” asked Master Windu._

_“You say the rule of attachment led to less Jedi falling, but is that true? Because my understanding is that you Jedi also stopped fighting in massive wars at the time. So was it the no attachment rule or the fact that you were no longer out on the battlefield with all the stress that brings?”_

_“Jedi still falling after the wars, there were,” Master Yoda said sharply._

_“And you still have Jedi falling today, despite your rules.”_

_“Mand’alar Mereel makes an interesting point,” interjected Jocasta Nu. “I do not think we have ever statistically compared the difference. I will prepare a report.” She put her head down, absorbed in her datapad._

_“You’ll also have to take the overall Jedi population into account for meaningful results,” suggested Dooku._

_Jocasta looked up to give Dooku a steely glare from half way across the galaxy. “I am well aware, Master Dooku.” Jaster could hear Jango snickering over their coms. Jaster really wanted to spar with Nu, mentally or physically. He had a feeling she’d kick his ass._

_There was a long pause where Jaster figured the Council was once again talking in their heads._

_“Many questions, we have. Seek the Force for answers, we will. Make decisions in haste, we will not,” said Yoda finally._

_“Your contact, we appreciate, Mand’alor Mereel,” said Master Yaddle._

Seeing as they were well over the two hour mark at that point, Jaster had been quite happy to end the com, despite them barely getting anything done.

Enough introspection. “Get the ships moving again, Jan’ika,” he ordered. Jango headed out. They still had another day of travel before they’d reach Manda’yaim. Thankfully, they had heard back from Bandomeer when last they dropped out of hyperspace, and the jet’ika was well. Jaster would get the full story once they were back on planet.

He looked at Dooku, who was still lost in thought. “You want to grab a drink in my cabin, Master Dooku? You haven’t tried tihaar yet, right?” That would get him away from the attentions of the rest of the verd’e. Dooku didn’t look up to much of anything right now.

“I have to attend to Komari for the next few hours, but I would not be averse to a drink after dinner, Mand’alor.”

“Jaster’s fine.”

“Then please call me Yan.”

“After dinner then, Yan.”


	27. Mace 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mace gets a smidgen of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely reviews. They really do keep me inspired and writing:)
> 
> Since it's causing several of my reviewers some anxiety, and in this day and age, I don't want to cause anyone anxiety; I am not throwing out the no attachment rule, the Jedi code etc. in this fic. The only rule that will be thrown out is initiates being shuffled to the Corps at 13, and there will be a logical reason for them to do that. The no attachment rule will be clarified by the Council eventually, but I basically just need Jocasta to do the research from the last chapter so they can eventually cotton on to their real problems with the Senate and the Sith.
> 
> I'll be updating the excerpts from The Mandalorian's Dilemma today as well.

Mace wasn’t going to lie; he was dreading having to go into the Council room again. The interminable discussions they were having about the Mandalorians and the multiple branching issues that stemmed from their change of heart, coupled with vague shatterpoints that seemed to flicker in and out of his vision, meant he’d been taking painkillers non-stop since the Mand’alor’s call. He’d also been in meetings with the High Council practically every moment of the day. Yesterday, they had missed dinner discussing if “ka’ra” was a proper replacement word for the Force in Mandalorian!

Mace had been honored when he was offered a Council seat at such a young age after Depa was knighted, even if it was only a temporary position. While the meetings weren’t the excitement he had dreamed of as a padawan, he had thought he could get used to them, that he was making a difference on a council that tended to have more senior, traditional Jedi Masters. And maybe during a more uneventful time period, he would have, but as it is, he was contemplating not renewing his position when his two year term was up. Healer Che had told him when he went to get some meds for his headaches that he couldn’t keep using them all the time without them losing their effectiveness.

He was standing in one of the anterooms, contemplating the view and also whether he could get away with skipping the next meeting, when Master Tera Sinube, a fellow council member, approached him.

“Long council meetings make for long faces, eh, Mace?” said the elder Cosian. He chuckled at his own joke. “’Course mine is always long.”

It was always an effort for Mace to remember to call Master Sinube by his first name. The Cosian had been on the Council since before Mace could remember. “I don’t think we’re going to come to an agreement any time soon, Tera.”

“We do seem to be getting stuck, but we must be patient.” The elderly master always advocated patience. It was wise advice, but Mace secretly thought it was because Tera’s years of work in Coruscant’s underworld had made council meetings seem relaxing and simple in comparison. “Did I ever mention that there is a Jedi in charge of tech for the entire temple?”

“No.” Mace wondered where Tera was going with this.

“Come. I’ll introduce you. It’s my duty as your elder.”

Mace was all for anything that delayed entering the Council chambers. He followed the Cosian Master down the lift and deep into the heart of the temple, a few levels below the usual main throughways.

“One of the missions young, potential Shadows are always given is to find the TICT office and retrieve a piece of data without the Jedi in charge noticing. It can be a challenging mission.” Tera was radiating fond amusement into the Force.

“TICT?” asked Mace.

“Temple Infrastructure, Communications and Technology.”

Tera stopped in front of a non-descript door with no label. He laid his hand on it and used the Force to manipulate some mechanisms inside of it before it slid open. The Ardennian inside was staring straight at the door, two of their four arms still tapping on the wide range of pads. Mace had seen them around the Temple occasionally, but didn’t know their name.

“Sinube. Windu,” they said with a nod to each of them. They reached out with the Force to close the door behind them. “There’s a test going on,” they explained. Mace focused on the corridors around them, and could indeed sense the poorly hidden Force presence of a potential shadow.

“Master Ube Vesta is as much of a wizard with tech as they are with the Force,” said Tera jovially.

Vesta narrowed their eyes. “What do you want?”

“Mace here is relatively new to the Council and didn’t know your office existed.”

Vesta nodded, then looked at Mace. One furry hand gestured around the room. “This is the TICT office. Maintenance and security are elsewhere.”

“Then what is it you do handle?” asked Mace.

“The entire Temple’s communication network. Plus the security for said network. And the Archives which are on a separate system. Also any odd tech or slicing requests a Jedi might have.”

“And Shadow training,” said Mace.

Vesta grinned. “Plus some Shadow training.” Mace had the feeling that it was a lot more than that, but he wasn’t going to question any further. He just appreciated this excellent resource Tera had introduced him to.

“Now, what’s the other thing you want?” asked Vesta, directing his gaze back to Tera.

“Must I have an ulterior motive?” asked Tera.

“You always have before,” said Vesta with a shrug.

With a sigh, Tera gave up on his pretense. “There was recently a copy of a book sent around the High Council; Jocasta has been sharing it around to others as well. There is no restriction on said book, so I would like for it to be sent to the entirely of the Jedi Order, possibly with orders for them to read it.”

Mace sent a surprised look at his fellow council member, but Vesta just pursed their lips. “You want it sent to _everyone_ everyone?”

“Probably best to leave off the initiates,” said Tera after a moment’s thought. All initiates learned about reproduction and sex at the age of twelve, but it was a good call considering the age range.

Vesta scrolled through one of the pads, head down. “Poof is always mass sending messages which I catch and delete,” said Vesta. “I can miss one.”

“That would be perfect, Master Vesta,” said Tera with a slight bow which the Master didn’t notice since they were still staring at their pads.

The Force was silent on the matter, but Mace felt the stirrings of hope. He could see what Tera was doing here. Once the book was being read by their fellow Jedi, not only would all Jedi have a crash course in Mandalorian culture, but they’d also start bringing some issues to the fore which would force the Council to start dealing with them. (Did Master Thilsa even know she was engaged to a Mandalorian? Oh no. Had anyone on the Council _noticed_ that she was other than Mace? Kark.)

“Perhaps you can send a follow up com a week later stating the error? That the com wasn’t for non-Council members, and they shouldn’t read it?” suggested Mace. “By then, the more dutiful will have already finished it.”

“And the more contrary will then chose to do so, if only out of curiosity,” Tera said. “Excellent idea!”

Vesta chuckled. “That can be arranged.”

“Good. We’ll leave you to your test in progress,” said Tera.

Vesta looked unerringly at the right wall where they could all sense the poorly concealed Force presence creeping along a corridor two rooms away. “I’ll be here awhile,” said Vesta. “May the Force be with you, Sinube. Windu.” They raised one hand in farewell.

Mace and Tera left. They deliberately headed back in a circuitous route which avoided the Shadow in training. Mace waited until they were far away before he spoke.

“Tera, out of all the Council members, I thought you’d have been the most content with the slow pace of our debates.”

“There is moving slowly,” said Tera. “And there is stagnating. We are doing one and not the other.” The Force sang with the rightness of his words. “And now we have a Council meeting to get to.”

Mace didn’t groan in frustration, but he did release said frustration into the Force.

++++++

_“Kiri was in electronic shackles that seemed too big for her. She whimpered through the gag at the sight of them. Naured automatically fired at the electronic barrier guarding the cell in front of them, and when that didn’t work, drove the butt of his rifle against it. All he got were numb hands from the reverberations._

_“These are restraints for a Jedi. Kiri is not Force sensitive,” said Hiam. Naured suddenly hated how calm he sounded._

_“No,” said a voice behind them. “But children sure do make great bait, don’t they?””_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep ending the excerpts on cliffhangers, don't I? Sorry...
> 
> Next chapter will be some interludes on the ships heading to Mandalore. (Then Palpatine, ugh.)


	28. Obi-wan/Holdan 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> En route to Mandalore from Bandomeer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to split this chapter into two parts, one dealing with the Mando and Jedi traveling from Bandomeer to Mandalore and a second one dealing with the group traveling from Galidraan. This makes more sense since the Galidraan group is a day behind the Bandomeer one due to travel distances. So next chapter will be Jaster, Dooku et al. and then ol'Palpy in the chapter after that. 
> 
> Obi-wan has a mild panic attack at the beginning of this chapter. If you need to skip it, scroll down to the phrase “Sorry to bother you" and start there. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for your reviews! Have a great holiday!

Obi-wan awoke with a silent start. He needed to be up before the guards with their electro-jabbers or– His hand came up to grasp the collar around his neck. It should have relieved him not to find it, but he suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of anything even touching his neck. He ripped the bandages off, and threw them as far away from him as possible. He tugged his overly large shirt down as well so nothing but cool air was hitting his neck. He was panting.

The door slid open. Holdan was there, his bodysuit only half way on with the upper part bunched up behind him.

“Ob’ika. Fay said you needed me.”

“I’m fine,” said Obi-wan, trying to get his breathing under control. It felt like the Force was just out of his reach.

“Right,” said Holdan. “You okay if I approach you, Ob’ika?”

Obi-wan nodded. Holdan came and sat on the same fold out seat he had yesterday, peeling away the bacta bandage where it stuck to the wall without a word. “Let’s both breathe together,” he suggested. “Try to match your breathing to mine.”

Masters in the crèche used the same exercise to start off meditation. It made Obi-wan feel much younger than twelve, almost thirteen. And frustrated that it took an embarrassingly long time for their breaths to match.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said once he felt his breathing was under control.

Holdan studied him, his face solemn. “The people who gave birth to me thought I was a bother. They told me so every time I interrupted their work or vids to ask for food or help. So I learned to take care of myself, and not come to them with my needs. I tried very hard to be perfect so I could please them. When my buir found me and took me away from them, it was very hard for me to understand the truth.”

“What truth?” asked Obi-wan.

“That there was nothing I could have done to satisfy them. To not be a bother. He would be my buir, and take care of me even if I wasn’t perfect.”

“So you’re saying there was nothing I could do to be accepted as a padawan? To stay at the Temple?”

“No. I’m saying that sometimes the people who are meant to be taking care of us either don’t care, or make mistakes. I have absolutely no idea why they would send you away from the Temple when you’re such a good fighter, and Fay says you are very strong in Force mind… stuff. You blame yourself for not being perfect. That’s what I did as well. But the fault lies with the adults that were supposed to be taking care of us.”

Obi-wan understood what he was saying, but he wasn’t sure if he believed it. They wouldn’t have sent him away if there wasn’t something wrong with him. His grades had always been poor. He was only an okay fighter, and had trouble controlling his temper.

He was surprised to find tears were gathering at the corner of his eyes.

“Oh, Ob’ika, I know,” said Holdan. He was radiating sympathy and love through the Force. Obi-wan didn’t know how it was possible for the man to love him. They had only known each other for a week! “And I know they made a mistake or else they wouldn’t be asking you to return to the Temple with me.” That’s right. The Council said he should return when he could, together with his buir. Master Fay had pointed out that they’d given him permission to be adopted by saying that.

Obi-wan wiped away his tears. “I want to believe you…” But it was hard. Maybe he could ask Master Fay if she would meditate on this with him. He had hoped when she had shown up on the mining platform as part of the group to rescue him (and he was seriously shocked that Holdan had somehow pulled together an entire task force to rescue him (including a Jedi!), even though Obi-wan had rejected his offer of adoption). Obi-wan had hoped again when they were meditating after the events of the day; hoped that the legendary Master Fay would take him on as her padawan. But the Force told them both differently. Obi-wan was glad the Force had reassured him he would be a Jedi Knight (and that Master Fay confirmed he was interpreting it correctly), but all the Force asked from him regarding a Master was patience.

Obi-wan didn’t feel very capable of anything at the moment, much less patience.

“Can I hug you, Ob’ika?”

Obi-wan nodded. The way Holdan carefully avoided touching anywhere near his neck when he pulled him into the hug made a fresh round of tears come to his eyes. He pulled away to wipe them.

“I know you don’t have any experience having a buir,” said Holdan seriously meeting Obi-wan’s eyes with his own dark ones. “So I’d like to ask you to do one thing.”

“What?” asked Obi-wan.

“Whenever you think you’re being a burden to me, you remind yourself that I’m your buir and you’re my ad and there is nothing you can ask me that will ever be a bother.”

Obi-wan nodded hesitantly. Surely there was a limit.

“Nothing, Ob’ika,” said Holdan sternly. “Fighting darksiders and freeing slaves didn’t stop me. Now if you want to take over the galaxy or something, just give me warning because that’s going to take a lot of planning.”

Obi-wan snorted. “I couldn’t even keep myself from being captured a few days ago, much less having galactic ambitions.”

Holdan gave him a smile. “You’re right. You should at least wait until after your birthday to declare yourself emperor.”

Obi-wan dissolved into laughter picturing himself in some gaudy robes with an oversized crown on his head.

“Let’s get you checked over one more time by the medics,” said Holdan when Obi-wan’s laughter had died down. “Once they’ve cleared you we can wash the bacta off.” Obi-wan wrinkled his nose. He did hate the sour-sickly smell of bacta. Holdan was pulling on the other half of his bodysuit.

“Thank you, buir,” said Obi-wan. He resolved to use the title more considering how Holdan, no, his buir, lit up at being called that.

“No thanks needed, Ob’ika.”

++++++

After making sure Obi-wan had breakfast, Holdan got cleaned up himself. Obi-wan went off to meditate with Fay while the verd’e ended up all gathered around the long tables in the mess, cleaning ore dust off their armor and retouching the paint. Holdan joined them and was pleased when Obi-wan squeezed in next to him sometime later, watching the proceedings with avid curiosity. Fay sat on a bench along one of the walls, probably to avoid getting any paint on her nearly white robes.

“So all the colors have meanings?” asked Obi-wan.

“Some do. Green for duty. Red to honor a parent. White for a new start. Blue for reliability. Gold for vengeance. But it doesn’t have to. I painted mine black and brown for camouflage during one of our campaigns a few years ago, and it’s served me surprisingly well ever since,” explained Holdan.

“It’s not a one on one correlation, jet’ika,” said Seanan, a Zabrak verd’e. “Hysul here is just insane.” He gestured at a verd’e who was retouching a blinding lime green onto their pauldrons.

“Kark you,” said Hysul pleasantly. “To human eye receptors maybe it looks garish, but it doesn’t to me.” They taped their face beside their distinctly silver eyes with no pupils. Hysul looked otherwise human. It was a common sight in Mandalorian culture what with all their genetic intermixing for millennia.

“Groups or clans will also sometimes coordinate colors too,” said a human verd’e whose name Holdan didn’t know. “Everyone knows Death Watch isn’t mourning a lost love or reliable when they wear gray and blue.”

There was a bunch of laughter around the table at the very idea.

“The Haat Mando’ade – that’s us, jet’ika,” said Vok, looking up from painting a rather intricate design on his chest piece which mimicked the pattern on his lekku, “tend towards green as a base color, but the way you tell us apart is this.” He tapped the mythosaur on the side of his pauldron. Around the table, those verd’e paying attention dutifully turned theirs for Obi-wan’s inspection.

“What is it? And what’s ‘haat’ mean? I know Mando’ade is Mandalorians.”

“It’s a mythosaur skull. They were as big as towns and cities, and used to roam Manda’yaim’s jungles,” said Seanan.

“And ‘haat’ means true,” said Vok. “So we are the True Mandalorians who follow the Mand’alor, Jaster Mereel.”

Obi-wan mouthed ‘haat’ to himself as if committing it to memory. Holdan needed to remember to get him a Mando’a language module to study.

“So you can pick whatever colors you want for your own armor, jet’ika,” said Sallsua.

“Mine?” Obi-wan sounded startled. He looked over at Fay. “Can Jedi do that?”

“We used to wear it all the time during the Sith Wars,” she said. There was something heavy and far away in her eyes. “But too much armor hampers following the will of the Force. Heavy armor slowed many a Jedi down at a crucial moment.”

“Well then you weren’t wearing very good armor,” said Vok with a scoff. He held up his buy’ce. “Look at this, jet’ika. An Armorer modified it to cover my head and protect my lekku.” His buy’ce was wider and flared out more than average. Attached to the back half of it was a cascade of overlapping armor plates which covered his lekku in battle.

Sallsua was nodding her agreement. She was married to an Armorer if Holdan remembered correctly. “A good Armorer will take into account not just your body shape, but also how you fight.” There were probably some Armorers salivating at the idea of designing Jetii armor considering _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_. “Hells, any verd’e could look at a Jetii fighting, and see there’s some modifications needed.”

Holdan had the perfect idea. Now that Obi-wan was his ad, it was safe to share the footage. “Speaking of which, look at this amazing fight of Ob’ika’s!” There was a holoprojector embedded in the center of the table for planning, mission briefings, and entertainment. “We can figure out what armor pieces might work and what needs to go.” It took him a moment to transfer the data, but then Ob’ika’s dance of death with the draigons was being displayed in all its glory.

“Buir,” said Obi-wan at his side. Holdan looked away from the battle to see his ad turning red in embarrassment. “It wasn’t that great a fight.”

“On the contrary,” said Fay. She’d come to stand behind the sitting verd’e in order to see the holo better. “Being able to sink yourself so deeply into the Force at such a young age is really impressive, Obi-wan.”

Obi-wan turned even redder.

“Damn, kid,” said Seanan. “Your eyes are closed for half the battle.”

Obi-wan shrugged. “The Force told me where the attacks were coming from. And the rain kept getting in my eyes.”

All the verd’e at the table had stopped what they were doing by this point to just stare at either the fight, or Obi-wan in admiration and wonder. Holdan wasn’t sure his ad could turn any redder. He put his arm around Ob’ika’s shoulder to reassure him, and Obi-wan hid his face against the side of Holdan’s chest. Holdan chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair. He was going to have to get used to the admiration of the Mando’ade and his buir if he kept being so mandokarla.

“So,” he said to take the attention a little bit off his ad. “Vambraces seem fine.”

“If they’re not too heavy with modifications,” said Sallsua.

“Or too long on the forearm,” said another verd’e.

And they were off debating every aspect of armor and what modifications might be needed. Holdan listened with a grin, arm still around his embarrassed ad’ika. Fay caught his eye and winked. They had had a good night together before she told him to go help Obi-wan. And in a few hours they’d arrive on Manda’yaim.

Overall, an excellent first day as a buir.


	29. Jaster 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaster has a lot on his plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my desktop computer broke the afternoon I posted the last chapter. We are all very lucky I write on a usb key and not the harddrive since it won't be fixed until the new year. The inconvenience of having to switch everything over to my old laptop rather killed my urge to write for a few days, but luckily it came back after awhile, especially after some very encouraging reviews:) I have nearly 10,000 more words of this fic written! I've upped the chapter count again since I have yet to even hit the timeskip *facepalm*
> 
> Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers!

Jaster woke up feeling awful. It seems the days when he could stay up all night drinking tihaar, down some water before bed, and wake up feeling fine were long gone. He gingerly sat up. He was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep on the couch in his quarters rather than on his bed, but he was in his bed now. Patting his face, he found a flimsi plastered to one side. The ink was bleeding a little from where he had drooled on it, but it appeared to be a schematic for an ancient lightsaber. In fact, he could see from here that the small table near the couch was covered in similar such sketches of ancient weapons. He had a vague memory about him and Yan comparing changing beskad and lightsaber forms over time after he had exhausted the Jetii’s knowledge of the darksaber.

He looked around for Yan, wondering if the Jetii had gone back to his own quarters and just how Jaster had gotten from the couch to the bed. He found the man sitting at the counter on the other side of the room, caf in hand. Jaster staggered to the refresher and used it before trying to scrub off the lines of ink across his face. He also found some painkillers and downed them dry.

Yan handed him a cup of caf when he came over. Jaster went to his little kitchen nook area, pulled out the spice blend he favored, and dumped a spoonful into the caf. Then he headed back to the counter.

“You sleep?” he asked. He took a sip of the caf, and felt it start to burn his sinuses open. Perfect.

“I appear to have closed my eyes at some point after levitating you to the bed,” admitted Yan. Jaster looked the man over. Not a fold of his inner robes were wrinkled or out of place despite sleeping on the couch. Was this some strange Jedi power?

“My verd’e are all going to think we’ve karked now, you realize?”

Yan gave a delicate snort which Jaster had learned stood for laughing out loud in the dignified man. “Good. They’ll consider me off limits for a while then.”

“I hope they haven’t been pressuring you,” said Jaster. He’d thought his verd’e were doing well!

“Not at all. But they also aren’t shielding their lust.”

“I can ask them to wear their buy’ce more,” Jaster offered, knowing the beskar would muffle the Force some.

“We have only a day more of travel, so it is no matter,” said Yan dismissively. Jaster made a mental note to give the Jetii some clan quarters which were separate from the verd’e quarters in the compound that the Haat Mando’ade called home in Keldabe.

“Well, do me a favor and pretend to go along with whatever I imply to Jango about us.” Teasing his ad about sex was a favorite pastime of Jaster’s. He just wished he was having half as much sex as Jango seemed to dread thinking about.

Dooku looked amused, and nodded his assent. Although it had taken awhile for the tihaar to relax the man enough for them to talk last night, Jaster thought he had gotten some of the measure of the dignified Jetii. Underneath all the Jedi reserve was a man with a meddling buir in Yoda, two troublesome ade in his second padawan Jinn and his current padawan, Vosa, and estranged or evil grandchildren. It was no wonder the Jetii had drunk the tihaar like it was water.

Jaster took another sip of his caf. “Today would be a good time to corner your ad for a talk.”

Yan grimaced. “This is not going to go well,” he rumbled.

The Jetii had awkwardly turned their conversation to raising ade the night before. Jaster’s advice had been to simply talk to her and find out her goals in life. Did she even want to be a Jedi?

That had led to a rather long and rambling account of the Lost Nineteen, who were apparently the only Jedi Masters to have left the Order in recent memory. Not that the Jetii would stop anyone from leaving at any point (another strike against anti-Jedi propaganda), but apparently it was rare for them to reach the rank of Jedi Master and still chose to leave. This meant Komari was free to leave if she wished, and Jaster wondered if that was what Yan was truly scared of.

“Tell you what,” said Jaster, “you talk to your ad today, and I’ll talk to mine.” Jango had something on his mind. In Jaster’s experience, it was best to just rip the bacta patch off in one go. Also, who knew? Maybe Jango had figured out what Jetii he wanted as his riduur.

++++++

“Come in!” Jaster called after doing a quick check on his pad to see that it was Jango on the other side of the door. Jaster had summoned him to his quarters when Jango proved difficult to track down all morning. Jango cautiously entered, eyes taking in every inch of the room. Jaster had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. His ad was obviously checking to make sure he didn’t have Yan hidden away somewhere in here. 

“Mand’alor,” said Jango, coming to a stop in front of him. Jaster raised an eyebrow at the formal address, but nonetheless got up from where he had been sitting on the couch.

“What can I do for you, ad’ika?” He wasn’t capable of calling Jango just another verd.

Jango thrust a pad at him. “This is a formal request for the command of our forces against Death Watch, alor.”

Jaster took the pad. “Sit, Jan’ika, and tell me your reasoning.” He sat back down himself. He certainly wasn’t opposed to the idea of Jango taking charge. He’d have handed over the buy’ce of the Mand’alor years ago if he thought Jango could handle the political side.

Jango nodded sharply, his expression that blank, stony look he got when he was actually feeling a lot. “I don’t want your title, buir, but you’ve had me train up a few squads of grunts now. I’ve also led the attack as your second when that shabuir, Montross , wasn’t available. I have the experience and the verd’e know me.”

Jaster nodded his agreement. All good points.

“We’re also getting word every day that more clans and Mando’ade are swearing the Resol’nare. Rumor is that Clan Kryze, maybe even Wren, might swear any day now.” That had been the rumor for over a month. Aerta Kryze, their information specialist, assured him it was more likely now than it had been the first time he had heard it. Jaster would believe it when the head of Clan and House Krzye or Wren swore the Resol’nare before him, and not a day earlier.

“It’s certainly not guaranteed,” he said.

“No,” said Jango, “but if it happens, you’re going to have more support than any Mand’alor in centuries. All the clan politics and osik that wasn’t dealt with during the clan wars will fall on you. And that’s on top of all this stuff with the Jetii. You’re also doing historical research which is taking up more of your time.” Well, yes, it was, but studying history was fun, and not a chore like clan politics.

“Buir, I know you barely get any sleep! You have the verd’e and our missions with no second in command for over a month, clan politics, the New Mandalorians, Death Watch, this Jetii osik and your research. You’re going to get sick soon if you keep running at 150%!” Jaster had been trying not to think about all the balls he was juggling as Mand’alor. Whenever he did, like now, he just felt incredibly weary. Say what you will about Montross, but he had been a good second in command. The work Jaster was doing now had him up until the wee hours of the morning every single day.

“Did you talk to Banin?” Jaster asked, suddenly suspicious that their chief medic had put Jango up to this. He was always going on about stress levels.

“No. Should I have?” asked Jango with a predatory smile. He had won his point. “Buir, if we really want to stop Death Watch once and for all, this campaign needs someone’s full attention. I know you can lead both, but you don’t need to.” Jango was correct, but there was something he hadn’t thought of.

“You’re already my designated heir. Nobody will question me putting you in command.” And if any said it was because Jaster was getting old, he’d take them outside and kick their shebs in. “But it’s a lot of work. You’re not going to have free time to read through Jedi personnel files.”

“I wasn’t going to find a riduur looking through files and daydreaming anyway,” said Jango bluntly. “We need to focus on Death Watch right now.” All true, but Jaster couldn’t help the pang of regret that he couldn’t give Jango the time he needed to find the romance he craved. His ad had come so far from the angry, traumatized boy he had met on Concord Dawn.

“I’m proud of you, Jan’ika.”

“Buir!” It was a token protest. There was a faint blush on Jango’s cheeks.

“I am. I needed this kick in the shebs, so thank you. We’ll sort the paperwork out when we hit Manda’yaim.”

Jango nodded, his posture finally relaxing out of the straight back he had maintained since entering the room. He’d probably expected a lot more argument, but he was right; Jaster needed to distribute more of his duties so he didn’t neglect something important. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Jango was playing to his strengths, however.

“So, did you come up with this entire plan so you could avoid dealing with the New Mandalorians?”

Jango bristled for a moment before he realized Jaster was teasing him. “Yes, Ja’buir. That was my entire plan,” he deadpanned.

“Excellent maneuvering, then. Perhaps we’ll make a politician of you yet.”

The look of horror his ad gave him was very satisfying.

++++++

Later that day, while Jaster was making his usual rounds of the ship, he was in an empty corridor when he was slammed, back first against the bulkhead.

What the kark? He had his blaster out, keeping it loosely in his hand when he realized he was being approached by a teary, angry Komari Vosa.

“You!”

“Is there a reason you’re attacking me, Vosa?” he asked coldly, trying to decide what part of her to shoot non-lethally if she didn’t back off.

The invisible hand holding him against the wall loosened as it dawned on her what she was doing. Fresh tears appeared in her eyes, but Jaster didn’t lower his blaster.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just, will you promise to take care of him the way I would have?”

Manda save him from angry, confused teenagers. Did she have a crush on Dooku? Her buir?!

“Your buir is his own person, and has never been interested in you that way.” Of that, Jaster could be totally certain. He was not even sure the man was interested in sex or love at all, but they had at least become friends in the past few days. She sobbed, but Jaster didn’t let himself be moved by the display. “I’ll be telling him about this, and recommending you get therapy.”

She nodded, all the anguish of a heartbroken teenager on her face. She bowed again, low at the waist. “I offer my apologies, Mand’alor.” She fled.

Jaster stood there for a long moment before remembering to holster his blaster. Ka’ra, he was not looking forward to telling Yan about this. He definitely didn’t have enough tihaar left for the conversation.


	30. Palpatine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sith Apprentice Palpatine plots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year to all my reviewers! Your words have inspired me to write at a speed I have never achieved before:)
> 
> My computer is still dead, but I have at least been able to finally watch Season 2 of the Mandalorian this holiday.
> 
> Next chapter, we shall check in on one of the Outer Rim Jedi who's been neglected until now: Nico Diath.

Senator Sheev Palpatine was fuming. His Master had advised him not to move directly on the True Mandalorians. This was, as was rather typical, hypocritical of his Master considering he provided several lines of funding to Death Watch through the InterGalactic Banking Clan. His Muun master followed the rules of the Line of Bane, subtly supporting the continuation of the Great Plan through countless small movements across the Galaxy which would ultimately lead to the fall of the Jedi and the rise of a Sith Empire. But his Master was also preoccupied with his scientific research into eternal life, and had pretty much left large swaths of implementing the Great Plan to his apprentice (once he used his influence to get Sidious installed as the Senator of Naboo).

The Great Plan mentioned nothing about the Mandalorians. Sidious had done his own research, particularly into those Sith who had interacted with the Mandalorians during the Mandalorian Wars. Most of those sources agreed that Mandalorians were excellent tools in the hands of the Sith. Sidious thought they might, perhaps, be the tool that brought down the Jedi since they were the only people who could consistently fight and kill Jedi in battle. Master Plagueis disagreed, and thought it was enough to simply foster unrest in the Mandalorian Sector.

This brought Sidious to now, and the failure of his two pronged plan to both take out the True Mandalorians and tarnish the Jedi.

He was honestly unsure if it had been the influence of the Sith before him, or just some bureaucrat credit-pincher that set up the truly delightful rules for requesting Jedi a century before. Either way, he had been maliciously delighted to discover that Senate researchers were following bureaucratic guidelines to strip pertinent details from Senate mission requests to the Jedi in order to save money by requesting the smallest possible team of Jedi for each mission. Sidious had helped this along by inserting word limits to the requests, causing the Senate researchers to excise even more information. That and some judicious work at the other end of mission requests meant that many Jedi were dying without backup on what were supposed to be routine missions. Even better was that the Jedi still hadn’t noticed!

Of course, this had presented him with a problem when the Governor of Galidraan’s request came in to the Senate. He wanted the Senate to send as many Jedi as possible, first to ensure that the True Mandalorians died (especially their reformer of a Mand’alor, Mereel). And second to make sure as many Jedi were exposed to the anger and guilt of first slaughtering the Mandalorians, and then discovering they were wrong about doing so. The anger, guilt and despair would drive many of them away from the Order, and possibly into the arms of the dark side.

He had posed as a fellow anonymous mask collector to get the ear of the Governor of Galidraan ages ago, then facilitated the man’s links to Death Watch several months before. Knowing the man’s character and Death Watch’s attempts to kill Mereel, he was delighted to see his efforts bear fruit when the request came from Galidraan. But it had required some work on his part to bribe the Senate researchers to ignore the usual guidelines on how many Jedi could be sent out on a mission.

He was angry with this Jedi Master Dooku for ruining his plans! Instead of taking the Senate research at its word, he had the audacity to question the Governor, and the Governor had folded like the flimsi he was. (Today, the Jedi had sent a request that the Senate researchers review their practices!) Now the True Mandalorians were fine, and the Jedi had killed only Death Watch Mandalorians. Bah! What a waste of effort, and he just knew he was going to be punished by Plagueis once he got wind of the failure of the scheme.

Well, he wasn’t going to make that mistake again. This new request from the New Mandalorians would go through unaltered by him. While as a Senator, he praised their dedication to pacifism and removing the warlike aspects of Mandalorian culture, inwardly, he praised more their passion for destroying anything that made their culture unique. In particular, he greatly approved of how they excluded non-humans from their members, and didn’t follow the ridiculous Mandalorian propensity for adopting anything that moved and considering them family. He’d have to ensure that the warriors in Mandalorian culture didn’t die out before he could use them to destroy the Jedi, but he could easily see a future where the New Mandalorians weakened their people to the point that he’d be able to sweep in as head of the new Sith Empire and steal all the beskar mines. It was a delightful image, especially since the prices of beskar had been rising these past few months.

Sidious had a share in several mines on Concordia so he wasn’t particularly concerned, but his quick research into the matter had turned up a popular article by a Mandalorian Armorer explaining the proper wearing of beskar, so there did seem to be some sort of fad driving the prices up. Like all fads, it would die down eventually. But he hoped it happened soon. It was making him money, yes, but it was also using up the limited supply of beskar.

In the meantime, Sidious just needed to come up with a new plan to bring the True Mandalorians down and leave the New Mandalorians in control if he wanted to make his vision of making all of the beskar mines his own a reality.

Well, fulfilling this request of the New Mandalorians would once again place the Jedi in conflict with both the True Mandalorians and Death Watch. He doubted they were friendly to begin with considering the potential misunderstanding at Galidraan.

Yes, the New Mandalorians accusing Death Watch and the True Mandalorians of stealing their children was the perfect new mission to continue encouraging dissent between the Jedi and the Mandalorians.

++++++

_“The fortress was nestled at the top of the cliff, two guard towers on either end and at the center was a massive durasteel door. As they had planned, Hiam faked a limp while Naured pretended to be helping him towards the door._

_“Kran?” asked a voice inside Naured’s borrowed buy’ce. He didn’t respond and instead made the hand gesture for his com being down. Their coms echoed with curses, but the door opened. Hiam’s arm around his shoulder’s felt like durasteel it was so tense. A Mandalorian in gray armor stood there with buy’ce on, but their stance conveyed annoyance._

_“Heading to the medics,” said Naured, hoping the buy’ce’s sound projector disguised his voice enough._

_“Obviously,” said the Mandalorian, throwing his hands up. “Karking Jetii! You’re the only ones who made it back this time.”_

_Naured steered them in the direction where the medics were usually set up in a standard Mandalorian camp, and tried not to brace too much for a shot in the back. If he turned in the wrong direction, they’d immediately be found out. Several heartbeats passed. Hiam’s hand moved to touch the back of his neck where it was covered by his bodysuit. He squeezed once. That meant they were okay and they were no longer being directly observed._

_The enemy Mandalorian’s comment meant that what Naured and Hiam suspected was true; they didn’t know Hiam was working with a Mandalorian. Dar’jetii and Mandalorians were common battle partners. But a Jetii and a Mandalorian? It was almost inconceivable despite how much Naured now knew it was the perfect pairing._

_Naured found himself grinning beneath his buy’ce. These dar’manda were in for a surprise.”_


	31. Ree (Nico Diath)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet a Jedi dedicated to freeing slaves and children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I wish all my readers and reviewers a better year than this last one!
> 
> In order to save you all the trouble, [here](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Nico_Diath) is a link to Nico Diath's bio so you can see his mustache for yourself:)
> 
> Please note, Ree, the original Mandalorian pov in this chapter, was raised New Mandalorian and therefore holds some biases he has yet to question (even though he mostly rejected his New Mandalorian heritage). I say this only because believing that your people deserved their attempted genocide by the Republic several centuries before due to their warlike culture is... problematic, and I hated writing it, even obliquely. 
> 
> Next chapter will be Obi-wan and co. arriving on Mandalore:)

Ree didn’t like taking jobs for the Hutts. They never paid that well, always asked you to do something you regretted later, and you inevitably were required to just stand there for hours in their presence, watching their perverted pleasures.

Unfortunately, both the plasma injectors in the engine on his ship had gone bad at nearly the same time so Ree was stuck on Cyrkon until he could earn enough to get off the planet.

Blusugg the Hutt made most of his money in the spice and smuggling trade. Ree had been hired to provide visible security to his dealings. Some of which had been suffering from unexplained losses these past few months. So far, Ree hadn’t detected anything more egregious than some of the spice dealers sampling their own wares before they hit the street.

There was another meeting tonight, this time in a building near the edge of the Motok city dome. It reminded Ree of his childhood growing up in Sundari, though Sunari’s dome was not see-through like Motok’s. His buir, or mother as she insisted on being called, had tried very hard to raise him as a New Mandalorian, but Ree had fled to find his other buir as soon as he was old enough to reach the controls of a speeder. The culture couldn’t be more different on Cyrkon compared to the staid façade of Sundari considering he was watching spice being unloaded by the kilo in the middle of the day in a populated area. He supposed that Cyrkon and Mandalore did share a history of their people destroying their planet’s environment however.

He was idly debating whether or not it was better to have destroyed your planet via endless warfare versus rampant pollution when he heard a young voice cry out. Another Hutt was approaching from the other side of the building, the Hutt’s lackeys dragging a whole train of ade, chained together and miserable.

Ree bared his teeth under his buy’ce. He had specifically chosen to work for Blusugg because the Hutt didn’t regularly deal in slaves. Of course, you never knew what new depravity a Hutt might throw at you.

Blusugg negotiated with the other Hutt before handing over a portion of the spice in return for the line of ade. The Hutt obviously knew next to nothing about Mandalorians because he didn’t blink his huge eyes when Ree volunteered to watch the ade for his employer. He was handed the electronic unlock for their chains and told to take them to what was essentially a slave market on the other side of the city.

If Ree had his way, they would never get there, but he’d have to be smart about this. He didn’t know the local underground paths for smuggling out escaped slaves, and he couldn’t take them on his own ship considering its non-working state.

He considered what to do as he led them slowly out of the building. The youngest ad looked barely five years old, their legs too short to keep up with the older ade. Ree needed first to get them out of the building and the surveillance of his (now former) Hutt employer. Then he would head for one of the slave districts and hope he spotted one of the subtle signs of a path to freedom.

That plan changed when a man with a blue lightsaber tried to stealthily cut through the chains and remove the children from the end of the line. Ree stopped and turned to watch. He had no idea why the man (Jedi?) thought he could stealthily use a lightsaber for _anything_. Those things were loud and bright.

The man froze at Ree’s attention. He had a square mustache and beard over tan skin. “Blast. You’re wearing beskar, aren’t you? Damned hard to influence through that stuff.”

“You could just use the key?” Ree held it out. “I was going to help them escape anyway.”

The children who understood Standard started chattering at that.

“Quiet little ones,” said the man. “I have clothes and a scanner nearby in case you have any chips, but we’ll need to be quiet for a short while.” He freed the rest of them from their chains, then hefted the youngest up in his arms. Ree went for the next youngest who looked only a year older, though they were a species he didn’t recognize so who knew how old the ad was? They had the others hold hands with the eldest bringing up the rear.

“And we march,” said the man in a quiet shout. He then turned to Ree. “Jedi Master Nico Diath of Clan Diath, pleasure to meet you.”

A clan?

“Ree, Clan Eldar,” Ree returned. May as well throw his clan in there if the Jedi had one as well.

“I’d heard Mandalorians like children, but I’d yet to see any evidence of it. Good to be proven wrong, Ree.”

Ree suspected it was more that before _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ , none had been interested in working with a Jedi. A fair number of every generation of Mandalorians were former slaves, after all.

With Ree and Diath carrying the two slowest, their pace was fast. Diath led them through a series of alleyways and into what looked like an abandoned building. They walked away from dim emergency lights and down a hidden staircase that Diath must have opened with the Force. Inside was an Ithorian doctor with a droid assistant. The genial doctor made some jokes and demonstrated the scanner on Diath first before asking the eldest of the ade to submit to a scan. Only one – a Pantoran – had a chip, so that was quickly removed while Diath kept the other children entertained.

Ree took the opportunity to remove and stow his armor in a bag he carried for just such a purpose. He didn’t know if it was being raised New Mandalorian at first or just practicality, but he didn’t mind removing his armor in front of strangers unlike some of his peers. In this case, Blusugg the Hutt had no idea what he looked like or where his ship was berthed. With his armor off and stowed, Ree was effectively anonymous.

“Did Blusugg look to be taking on any other slaves that need freeing?” asked Diath, once Ree had come over to join the children.

“He hardly trades in slaves at all, as far as I’m aware.”

Diath grinned brightly. His mustache was rather distracting. It kept drawing Ree’s attention to his lips. “That’s because I’ve been hitting all his shipments of slaves and freeing them.” Ree had the suspicion that if he’d still been working for the Hutt, he’d have just found the source of the Hutt’s “unexplained losses” over the past months.

“You’ve probably scared him off for a while,” he said.

“Good. Good,” Diath said, nodding. The doctor was finishing up, putting a bacta patch on the Pantoran kid’s wound.

They spent the next few hours smuggling the children in groups of twos or threes to various underground paths which would get them off planet and either back home or to new homes. Ree wished them all well, and taped down on his own urge to rescue a few himself. Much like tookas, it was hard to adopt just one ad, and Ree was barely keeping himself afloat, much less ade.

He and Diath ended up in a grimy cantina afterwards. Diath was curious why Ree was working for a Hutt, whereas Ree was curious if all Diath did was wander around freeing slaves or if Jedi arranged regular missions to free slaves. Turns out, it was both; Diath did just spend all his time freeing slaves from the Hutts _and_ Jedi did like to run missions freeing slaves whenever possible.

“Would you need some help?” asked Ree. “I still need to make enough money to get my ship running, but I’d prefer anything over working for the Hutts.”

“Hmm. My Hutt bounty is getting quite high. It might be time to change up my methods so as to confuse the bounty hunters, and who would look for me with a Mandalorian? No one! Hah!”

Ree wasn’t going to mention that with the publication of _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ , that scenario became more likely every day. He also knew several other Mandalorians who hung around Hutt space and would be happy to spend their time freeing slaves over working for the Hutts, or as mercenaries and bounty hunters.

He looked over at Diath once more. That mustache really was intriguing even if he didn’t usually go for males. There was also an entire Clan Diath of Jedi and Force sensitives to choose from as potential partners.

Spending his time freeing slaves, getting to see a Jedi in action and possibly finding a Jedi riduur himself? This could be the start of a great partnership.


	32. Holdan 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-wan meets Clan Lla.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all my fabulous reviewers! Your comments make my day:D

When they arrived on planet, Holdan decided to directly head to visit Clan Lla’s compound. He and Obi-wan would stay there until the Mand’alor and the Jedi with him landed on planet. Fay had given both of them a hug before saying the Force was calling her and wandering off into the city.

Clan Lla’s compound was on the edge of Keldabe. They were a small clan. They could hardly support one of the larger ones near the city center, but this had also kept them clear of the bombings of the civil war. It was laid out rather typically with a central courtyard and gathering area, large communal kitchens, and private quarters for families or individuals surrounding the rest of the courtyard.

Like many of the smaller clans of Mandalore, they had around 10-30 members who could be in and out of the compound at any time, though there were some who lived there permanently such as his buir.

Holdan ushered a somewhat shy Obi-wan into the building after giving his security code to the droid manning the gate. They found the clan members busy in the kitchen with breakfast. Holdan and Obi-wan were welcomed warmly. The clan ade were practically vibrating in excitement at the Jetii in their midst. But they would have to wait.

Holdan showed Obi-wan over to the end of the long communal table where the Clan Head sat. Mavonna was one of his buir’s ori’vod. How much older, he could only speculate, but her hair was pure white. She had been a commando back in the day and her straight back and build still reflected that even though she was only wearing beskar vambraces at the moment.

“So this is the jet’ika,” she said, squinting at him. Everyone was aware she needed some corrective work on her eyes, except she stubbornly refused to even admit there was a problem. “Holdan contacted me today to tell me of our good fortune,” she said, breaking into a smile. “Welcome to Clan Lla, Obi-wan Kenobi. I’m Mavonna Lla, the aliit’alor – the Clan Head in standard.”

Obi-wan bowed from the waist. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, aliit’alor. Thank you for having me.”

She waved her hands. “No need for thanks. Children are our future. Speaking of which, I believe they want to meet you.” The clan ade nodded eagerly from where they had been blatantly eavesdropping. Holdan could see one other new face from when last he had been home. Obi-wan’s hands were seized and he was dragged out to the courtyard, surrounded by chatter.

“Breakfast is in ten!” shouted Holdan’s buir, Aparr, coming up beside them. He held out his arms for a hug which Holdan was happy to oblige. “Welcome home, ad’ika,” he said into Holdan’s ear. “I knew you’d be coming home with a bu’ad for me one of these days.”

His buir was hardly one to talk. The only reason that Holdan didn’t have several other vod’e is because the rest of Clan Lla kept adopting any ad they found before Aparr could get to them.

“Try to teach him a more Mandalorian greeting,” said Mavonna. Bows did tend to come off as subservient to Mandalorians. However, Obi-wan was a Jedi too so Holdan would explain the issue to him and let him decide.

“Yes, ba’vodu,” he said since he wasn’t insane enough to argue with her about it. “You might hear from the Mand’alor soon.”

“We are sworn to House Wren. If they swear to him, then I’ll talk to him.”

Holdan let the issue be. Clan politics were ridiculously complicated. The three largest clans, Kryze, Wren and Vizsla were split several different ways amongst the three major factions in Mandalorian politics: The True Mandalorians, Death Watch and the New Mandalorians. There were also a bunch of splinter factions, sometimes representing some of the smaller clans, but others made up of random groups. (For example, there was a splinter group from Death Watch called Children of the Watch who deplored how much Death Watch was _not_ going back to the traditional ways of the ancient Mandalorians. As far as Holdan could tell, they just really wanted to raise foundlings the traditional way and not with the brainwashing and torture of Death Watch. The never taking their buy’ce off thing was a bit weird though.)

But there were also the Houses. Any clan with other clans sworn to them could call itself a House. So the three largest clans were also Houses and so was House Mereel since there was a growing number of clans swearing themselves directly to the Mand’alor. Houses Kryze, Wren and Vizsla were all still neutral and not affiliated with any of the major or minor factions.

So Clan Lla was sworn to House Wren who remained neutral, and therefore Clan Lla remained neutral despite the fact that most of their members were True Mandalorians. While many clans were breaking away to swear to House Mereel and declare allegiance to the True Mandalorians and the Mand’alor, Holdan didn’t think that was going to happen to Clan Lla any time soon. The reason why was because Mavonna’s ad was in Death Watch. She wasn’t going to declare an allegiance that might get her kid kicked out of the clan. (Considering the confrontation at Galidraan, Holdan had to wonder if his cousin was even alive at this point, but he wasn’t stupid enough to ever bring that up around his Clan Head.)

“Sit down, Holdan, and grab some food before they’re talking your ears off,” suggested one of his ba’vodu, Lillin. Their clan was small enough that pretty much everyone older than you got called either ba’vodu or ori’vod regardless of their actual relation to you. “I’ll go get the ad’ika.”

Breakfast was fried tubers, nuna bacon and a salty, spicy soup with seaweed and soy chunks in it. Holdan managed to get about half way through his before the ade and everyone else streamed in for breakfast. Ob’ika was in the middle of them, looking flustered but happy. Holdan patted the seat beside him and piled food on the kid’s plate.

“So,” began Ap’buir. Holdan froze. He knew that tone. “You left here two months ago with a ship and a few credits, and return with no ship, a jetii ad and possibly a jetii riduur?”

“Buiiiir,” Holdan groaned. “There is no riduur. Fay and I are just friends.” A glance at Obi-wan revealed a growing look of amusement at realizing that, yes, his ba’buir liked to tease.

“But you did lose an entire ship at some point?” asked one of his ba’vodu.

Great. Now they were all ganging up on him.

“The engine casing cracked because it was forty years old. It would have cost more than the ship was worth to fix it. I sold it for junk on Coruscant.” He was not going to mention the shoot-out he’d had when the junk dealers tried to cheat him since that was rather par for course in the underworld of Coruscant.

“You didn’t do anything to it to make it crack?” asked Lerk, one of his ori’vod.

Holdan shook his head. “No, it was just bad luck. Then I was stupid enough to spot a Jetii and follow them onto a transport. Of course, then I met Ob’ika so it wasn’t all bad luck.”

Obi-wan had his head down and was studiously eating his tubers, but his cheeks were flushed red again. Holdan recounted the whole story, taking particular care to describe how awesome his ad and Fay were while trying to avoid talking about Jinn entirely.

“I have the holo of Obi-wan’s fight if you want to see,” he finished. Obi-wan let out a groan of dismay next to him.

Lillian smiled at them both. It always looked super wide to him because her scarlet tattoos showing the Kiffar clan she had originally belonged to traced their way up her cheeks from the edges of her lips, almost like wings. “Oh, we were sent that vid the moment you landed. The ade have been “draigon fighting” all morning.”

Various ade around the table nodded their agreement. “Ob’ika i’a wwery gut fyt-aa,” said Caitlee, his 6 year old Zabrak cousin, around a mouthful of bacon.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” said her long suffering buir.

Caitlee made the effort to swallow. “Can we fight more after breakfast, ori’vod?” She turned her very adorable, wide hazel eyes on Obi-wan.

“Very well,” said Obi-wan. It seems Jedi were as susceptible to the begging tooka eyes as any of them were.

“I’m Aparr, your ba’buir,” said his buir, and Holdan realized he’d forgotten to introduce them before the clan ade had dragged Obi-wan off.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” said Obi-wan, nodding his head in a seated bow.

His buir had a craggy, crooked smile due to a scar across his left cheek. “Please call me, ba’buir, Ob’ika.”

The moment the last piece of food was gone from Obi-wan’s plate, the ade had him up and pulled out to the courtyard. Holdan offered to help clean up, but he was waved off and told to go talk to his buir, who had also headed off the moment breakfast was finished.

Holdan headed over to their family quarters. His buir had the largest room which he had shared with his riduur before they died a year after Holdan was adopted. That was where he found his buir now, pulling his armor off its stand and putting it neatly into a box.

“Buir, no!”

Buir gave him a piercing look. “Ob’ika needs beskar armor. We’re not rolling in extra armor like the larger clans, but I can give him my suit.”

“But, buir–”

“I’m not using it, Hol’ika,” said buir, ever so gently. Over five years ago, Ap’buir had gotten nerve damage from a poisoning gone wrong on one of their missions. On bad days, he had trouble holding a spoon steady, much less a blaster. He had fallen into depression about it for quite some time before Holdan could convince him to talk to a therapist. Thankfully, he had improved after that. His buir was now working happily as a ba’ji or teacher at the local school.

It didn’t stop Holdan from being distressed at the idea of his buir giving up his armor.

“You’ll at least keep Key’buir’s pauldron?” he asked. There were no rules on which piece of armor you could exchange with your riduur.

Buir smiled. “Yes, and mine to match it. But the rest will go to Ob’ika. I’m a big man so even without the pauldrons, it should be enough to cover him so long as he doesn’t bulk up too much as an adult.”

“It’s going to be strange not seeing you in your armor,” admitted Holdan.

Ap’buir smirked and pointed at his closet. “I’ve still got my durasteel set if I want to wear some. I’m not going New Mandalorian here.”

Holdan laughed at the very idea, then sobered. “I’m not sure if we should tell Ob’ika where the beskar comes from or not. It’s going to be hard to convince him he’s worth his ba’buir’s armor.”

His buir shook his head fondly. “Ah, so exactly like you at that age.”

Holdan was far too mature to stick his tongue out at his buir, but he wanted to. “Obi-wan needs educational modules, buir. The standard foundling set and anything else you think he might find interesting.”

“If the clan ade ever let him go long enough to talk to his ba’buir, I’ll see what I can figure out.” His buir was good at designing lessons that appealed to each child rather than just teaching a standard curriculum.

“Well, let’s go rescue him.”

They found him out in the courtyard, doing a handstand, one handed. Various rocks were floating around him that the clan ade were either trying to get to move or piling more rocks on top of them for fun.

Jetii sure had some weird training exercises.

++++++

_““Is it taboo for me to know your name?” asked the Jetii._

_Naured hesitated. In some clans, you truly didn’t share your name with outsiders. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case in his._

_“Ah, well, maybe we can guess his name. What do you say, Kiri? Shall we guess?” The Jetii turned around so he was walking backwards, letting the ad get a good look, though of what, Naured didn’t know; he had his buy’ce on to protect him from the sun._

_“Alask, maybe? Oh, how about Bibfort?” He didn’t speak any Ryl besides curses, but the giggles of the ad told him he was being made fun of._

_“I am Naured of Clan Awaud,” he snapped._

_The Jetii smiled at him. “Well met, Naured.””_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your Ryl lesson for the day: Alask means sand or desert cause Naured is covered in dust, and his armor is camouflaged for the desert. Bibfort is a sort of guard animal so Hiam is kind of calling him a doggy to make Kiri laugh.


	33. Dooku 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dooku makes an important com call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my lovely reviewers! You're all so awesome:D
> 
> Dooku finally told me his sexuality and orientation, thank the Force! Getting him to do anything this chapter was a chore though *sigh*
> 
> Timeline wise: Obi-wan and Holdan spent the night with Clan Lla, and headed back to the True Mandalorian compound the next morning to meet the Mand'alor's ship. The Jedi as a whole, meanwhile, have now had the Book for a day or two (ironically, none of the knights on the Mand'alor's ship have had the time to read it XD). And the Jedi Council have received the New Mandalorian's mission request. 
> 
> Next chapter - Plo! Finally! (I've had his chapter written since November.)

Yan had to call deeper on the Force than he would like to maintain his calm expression as they disembarked from the Mand’alor’s ship on Mandalore. They had landed the ship in the corner of what Yan could only call a fortress, though he had already heard it referred to as the clan compound of House Mereel. From above, it had looked like several clan compounds had been surrounded by a giant wall.

Mandalorians were gathered in droves, most of them not even pretending to be doing anything other than watching the ship, and no doubt, the Jedi on it, arrive. They certainly were not subtle. Thankfully, implying he was in a relationship with the Mand’alor had made the rest of them back off of Yan at least.

Unfortunately, the last day on the ship had been surprisingly brutal. First, there had been the emotional conversation with Komari where he had discovered that she had the totally unrealistic dream that they’d be partnered together forever, even after her knighthood. He had explained that all new knights were sent out on solo missions, and they may, in fact, never work together again. He’d honestly been a bit baffled why she would want to. It was obvious she was going to be a very different Jedi than him once she was off on her own.

He held affection for Komari, but they had very little in common. Her interests were astrophysics and holo novels. She openly groaned when he started in on his research into ancient Force sects and history. Komari wasn’t even like Qui-gon who at least had sometimes enjoyed hearing of alternative Force sects and (for some reason) Force prophesies, in addition to his botanical interests. Yan was pretty sure that the only thing he and Komari both enjoyed doing was lightsaber practice.

With that awful conversation out of the way, Yan had resolved to get some of the knights they were travelling with to give Komari a better idea of what to expect in her own knighthood. He’d then turned his attention to considering what to suggest to the Council regarding his own mission. He had accompanied the True Mandalorians to Mandalore in order to smooth over any problems from the fact that the Governor of Galidraan had partnered with Death Watch to try to use the Jedi to kill the True Mandalorians. The Council had agreed it was a good idea. Not to mention, if they had had to go to Bandomeer to rescue Initiate Kenobi, it would have been good to have another Jedi other than Qui-gon there. However, there was now the question of if their mission was over, or if the Jedi should be offering their help with Death Watch? Plus Yan also felt it was his duty to watch over Initiate Kenobi, though Master Fay might be doing that already.

He had been deep in contemplation of the issues when the second disaster of the day arrived with Jaster coming to tell him about his confrontation with Komari. His offer of tihaar and someone to talk to about it had been appreciated, but Yan had felt desperate to meditate on the second surprise his padawan had thrown at him that day.

Crushes by padawans on their masters weren’t uncommon, especially in their early teens. Yan was feeling like a failure for not noticing Komari’s at all, especially since she was 18 and this had to have been going on for a while. Plus, he was baffled since he had explicitly told her on at least one mission to a very sexually liberated planet that he wasn’t sexually attracted to beings. He hadn’t told her that he _did_ enjoy the physical aspects of sex (he, Sifo-Dyas and Jocasta had all experimented with each other when they were younger) because that wasn’t an appropriate thing to tell your padawan, but she should have known she had absolutely no chance even if he wasn’t her master. Not to mention that the idea of any master becoming sexually engaged with their padawan, their _student who they were completely in charge of_ , made him feel ill.

He didn’t know where he had gone wrong. And he didn’t know where he had gone wrong with Qui-gon. It had been years since he talked to his first padawan, Rael as well. Was he just a failure as a Master? Was his strictness on decorum and propriety wrong? He honestly thought a lot of his training was less strict than Master Yoda had been with him, but maybe he wasn’t. Had his own disagreements with the Council regarding their reliance on the Senate and other issues turned all his padawans into rebels and misfits? The Force had offered no answers.

Initiate Kenobi was waiting near the edge of the landing field, though he was hard to pick out considering he was wearing Mandalorian clothing. His own had probably been lost during his captivity on Bandomeer. In the Force, the boy was loud, not projecting his emotions per say, but reaching out instinctively to Yan and the Jedi around him. Yan kept his emotions firmly behind a mental wall, but he gave the polite equivalent of a tap on the shoulder back. This seemed to startle the initiate and he withdrew behind some rudimentary, but impressive shields. Fay must have been teaching him.

Jaster was talking to a Twi’lek who was giving him a site report, but broke off when a handsome, black-haired man who must be Holdan Lla approached with Initiate Kenobi at his side.

“Mand’alor, may I introduce Obi-wan Kenobi of Clan Lla,” said Lla with a proud grin on his face. “Ob’ika, this is the Mand’alor Jaster Mereel and his ad, Jango Fett.”

Obi-wan’s head bobbed forward for a moment as if he was going to bow, but then he aborted the movement in favor of thumping his fist across his chest in the Mandalorian salute. “Mand’alor.” Yan could hear one of the Mandalorians behind him say, “Aww,”, and hoped Kenobi couldn’t hear. Then the boy turned to him and bowed the proper Jedi bow. “Master?”

“Yan Dooku, Initiate Kenobi. I would like a report on the events on Bandomeer later this evening if you are free.” Yan would convey his compliments for keeping up with Qui-gon then. Obi-wan looked to his father who nodded.

“We can do that,” said Lla.

“I’m surprised you don’t have him in armor already,” said Yan to Lla, trying to keep his tone light. That was, no doubt, the Council’s worst nightmare. There was a spike of anxiety from Obi-wan, but Lla pat him on the shoulder in reassurance.

“He’s a week out from turning thirteen. I figured we may as well get his verd’goten out of the way, then start on the armor.” Yan had no idea what a verd’goten was, but he’d ask Jaster later. He did know from gossip on the ship that Mandalorian children started off slowly wearing pieces of armor in order to get used to the weight and feel over time. Plus, that way they didn’t have to resize it so much as the children grew.

“You need help getting some beskar?” asked Jaster.

Lla shook his head. “Already taken care of, alor,” he said. Obi-wan shot him a look of surprise, which Lla ignored.

“Where is Master Fay?” asked Yan. He could tell her presence wasn’t anywhere nearby.

“Gossip had her spending the night with a farmer and her wife,” said the Twi’lek. “From there she headed out into the wastelands.”

“Master Fay will be back soon, I think,” said Obi-wan. If she’d been teaching him some mental arts, they most likely had some sort of bond. The initiate didn’t have a padawan braid, so Yan assumed Fay hadn’t claimed him.

“Well, let’s get everyone settled then,” said Jaster, raising his voice to signify it was an order.

The Jedi, trailed by Lla and Obi-wan, were led to some living quarters to one side of the compound. Jango assured them they were as far from the True Mandalorians main barracks as they could possibly get here. (Knight Triyan, who had been joyfully bunk hopping the entire trip, looked disappointed, while the Mirialan Knight, Legro, looked relieved.)

“I’ll show you the way to my quarters later,” said Jaster with a wink. Jango groaned softly in the background. “Holdan, you and Obi-wan staying here as well?”

Lla nodded. “’Lek, alor.” Yan had been assuming they’d go elsewhere, but it wasn’t a bad idea to keep them close. Lla would need to get used to being around Jedi if he was determined to have a roll in his son’s life. There was also always the possibility that one of the knight’s here was looking for a padawan. Speak of which, he looked around to find Komari where she had been looking miserable and lingering at the back of their group.

“Komari, would you guide the initiate in barehanded Makashi for the next hour? Afterwards, you can both go for lunch.”

“Yes, Master,” she said. It wasn’t a punishment though she probably thought it was. Jaster had insisted the only punishment he wanted her to have for threatening him was to get some help. Yan thought she needed something more than that, but honestly wanted the advice of someone who wasn’t him to decide on what the punishment should be.

“I will be making some coms,” he announced before retreating to his assigned room. He was in desperate need of advice, but left with the same problem he had had before. Yoda would be no help, especially since Jocasta had confirmed via a short com message that Yoda was indeed at the heart of Initiate Kenobi’s early send off from the Temple (he wasn’t looking forward to telling the Mand’alor that). He truly only had two close friends at the Temple. Sifo-Dyas was a good listener and would be happy to chat about Jedha if Yan wanted distraction, but had never had a padawan himself. Jocasta, meanwhile, had had several padawans, plus the multiple Archivists and ExplorCorps members she mentored, but Yan wasn’t sure if he was up to her blunt honesty at the moment. He could talk with Jaster, except he really needed a Jedi’s perspective at the moment.

There was only one thing for it. He called the Temple and asked to be directed to the Mind-Healer’s. A moment later, Master T’ra Saa appeared. Her root-like tresses were bound back in a loose bundle today. If she was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it.

“Master Dooku, how can we help you today?”

“My padawan is in need of a mind healer. I was hoping we could set up a meeting for her via com until we make it back to the Temple. Initiate Kenobi also needs to touch base since he spent some time in slavery on Bandomeer.”

T’ra Saa’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll need a report on the mission to give to Obi-wan’s mind healer.”

“I have only the Mandalorian account available right now, but I will be debriefing him this evening.”

“You will be gentle with him and avoid making him relive any trauma,” T’ra Saa ordered.

Yan nodded, though he had absolutely no idea how to do that. He wasn’t good with younglings, let alone traumatized ones. Maybe that was another reason he had failed his padawans.

“I,” he said, then paused. His pride and years of self-reliance warred with what he knew to be true – he needed help. Well, never let it be said he avoided doing what needed to be done. He drew himself up. “Master T’ra Saa, I’m also in need of a mind healer. I would appreciate your guidance on how to deal with my padawan and the initiate.”

A flicker of surprise went across T’ra Saa’s face before she smiled warmly at him. “I have some free time now, Master Dooku. Let’s talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T'ra Saa briefly contemplating how to make Yoda and Qui-gon suffer there before Dooku surprised her lol


	34. Plo Koon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Plo Koon gets handed a mission and a romance novel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my reviewers:) I figured we could all use some more distraction right about now, so here is the next chapter, complete with some hurt/comfort on Hiam and Naured's part;) 
> 
> Next chapter will be either Fay addressing the Council, or Jango and Obi's chapter (haven't decided which comes first timeline wise yet).

Plo Koon came out of hyperspace to a recorded message from his former Master, Tyvokka, a long text message detailing a new mission to Mandalore and the text of a romance novel. He had just spent several months on Dorin training with the Baran Do, his planet’s own force sensitive tradition, and was suddenly feeling very out of the loop.

He set the hyperspace coordinates to Mandalore, but decided to listen to the message before he jumped in case it needed an immediate response.

“Plo, I hope this message finds you well. There have been multiple… developments over the past months while you were gone. The Mandalorians have had a change of heart regarding the Jedi, and the romance novel is the key. You will need to read it before you arrive on Mandalore.”

That was certainly an unusual request.

“Once you have read it, I would ask you to meditate on what you have learned about the Mandalorians and how they relate to the Jedi. I will contact you when you reach Mandalore so we can speak in person. May the Force be with you, my most troublesome padawan.” Tyvokka liked to joke that Plo was the worst padawan he had ever taught. Unfortunately for him, Plo had met his padawan brothers and sisters, and knew he was the best behaved of the lot.

Plo sent the ship into hyperspace, and settled in to read the book. A few hours later he finished, then sunk into a light meditation on the novel.

He liked it a lot. He had never quite realized how caring Mandalorians were of their children and their loves. Plus the plot of a lone Jedi finding and protecting a child with the help of a secretly soft-hearted Mandalorian appealed to him.

He wondered if any other Jedi had found the book appealing? The Force prodded him to ask the opposite question. How many Mandalorians had found the Jedi appealing after reading this book? Enough to change thousands of years of enmity apparently.

He came out of meditation and turned his attention to his mission briefing. The New Mandalorians had reached out to the Senate to ask for help with their disappearing children. They accused the True Mandalorians and Death Watch of kidnapping them from the city of Sundari which is where the New Mandalorians were based. Plo scrolled further through the file to the background on the New Mandalorians since he had never heard of them.

They were a subsect of Mandalorian culture founded centuries ago in protest against the massacres and atrocities being committed by the more standard, warmongering Mandalorians of the time. This seemed to Plo like a worthy goal until he reached the footnote which explained that this protest included rejecting not just the fighting, armor and weapons of the traditional Mandalorians, but also their entire culture, including their language.

Having just finished reading _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ , Plo found himself reacting with more distaste than he’d have expected. To take the step to reject the entirety of your culture because of the wrongs you believed were committed in its name was admirable, but he doubted most Mandalorians saw it that way. After a moment’s reflection, Plo realized _he_ didn’t see it as admirable either. If the New Mandalorians were rejecting their culture, that meant that family and clan ties weren’t being maintained, and they weren’t taking care of and adopting children from outside of their blood ties. Were the New Mandalorians only asking for help now that their own children were being targeted? Would Plo arrive to discover that there were many more missing children who the New Mandalorians didn’t care about because they weren’t blood related?

He had a bad feeling that this was the case.

Either way, Plo would have to be mindful of his biases around the New Mandalorians during this mission.

Contrary to the Senate’s request however, the Jedi Council had told him to contact the Mand’alor Jaster Mereel before talking to the New Mandalorians. Master Dooku had reported that the True Mandalorians following Mereel had also been suffering from child abductions a few years before and those abductions had been traced back to Death Watch. Plo settled in to spend the rest of the trip reading the large file on Mandalorian history he found embedded in the mission background briefing. 

As he came out of hyperspace around Mandalore over two days later, Plo set his fighter’s coordinates for Keldabe, the capital city.

++++++

_“Naured let his eyes roam over Hiam after he ducked back into the cave where they were sheltering. Kiri was a warm weight against his chest, her face hidden, though he didn’t think she was sleeping, just tired from her panic attack._

_Hiam’s robes were a series of brown colors which worked well as camouflage in the desert, but also made it hard to see if Hiam was injured._

_“Are you all right?” Naured asked. He could be sure that at least Hiam’s chest had been protected by Naured’s armor. He stood up, making sure to support Kiri, though she made a whimper of protest at the move. He needed a closer look._

_“We should probably move. At least one escaped,” said Hiam. He was grabbing their meager supplies._

_“You didn’t answer the question.”_

_Hiam sighed. “I’m mildly injured, but it’s nothing I can’t heal once we change locations.”_

_“Let’s move then,” said Naured, twisting with Kiri still in his arms to duck out the narrow cave entrance. Hiam shadowed him, taking up Naured’s usual spot of guarding their backs since Naured held Kiri._

_An hour later, they stopped in the shadows of some tall pillars of stone. Naured made sure Kiri had some water before ordering Hiam to strip. He ignored Hiam’s raised eye brow, and his own blush._

_Once the Jetii’s tunics were off, Naured’s armor breastplate was finally visible. Closer inspection revealed there were shiny particles of metal scattered across the left side, along with barely visible scorch marks on the surrounding brown fabric. Naured touched it, gloves coming away covered in a powdered metal._

_“What happened?”_

_“Caught a slug thrower on my lightsaber. It spattered across my chest.” Hiam’s eyes were warm. “Your armor protected me.”_

_Naured couldn’t resist giving him a kiss, even as his hands worked to get the armor and the fabric below it off. There were trails of bright red-brown burns on the skin radiating out from the edge of where the armor had sat._

_“You can heal it?” Naured asked. They had some basic medical supplies, but he also remembered Hiam’s healing of his sunburn._

_“Yes, though perhaps you could feed Kiri while I do? It’s hard to focus while you’re devouring me with your eyes.” Hiam wiggled his eyebrows. Kiri giggled softly, though her eyes were filled with tears at seeing the injuries. Naured realized that was probably why Hiam wanted him to distract her with food._

_“Take your time, cyare,” he said._

_Hiam granted him one last warm smile before closing his eyes in meditation. “”_


	35. Jango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jango throws a pad out a window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should be posting that Office gif "It's happening!". Thirty-five chapters in and the story's main pairing finally have a chapter together lol Please keep in mind though, Obi-wan is still 12...
> 
> This chapter takes place in the early morning after the True Mandalorians arrived back from Galidraan. Plo Koon is still two days away from arriving.
> 
> Thank you to all my reviewers! I hope this chapter finds you in better spirits:)
> 
> Feemor rightfully reminded me he needs to get on with his mission, so his chapter will be next, then Fay.

Jango threw the pad with as much force as possible at the nearest window.

It sailed right through.

_Ugh._

He had been hoping for a satisfying clatter, maybe some damage to the pad to suit his bad mood, but no. The window was open.

He sighed. Nothing to do but retrieve the damn thing. It had sensitive info on it after all.

He triggered the door, but when it slid open there was a person right in front of him. Kenobi, pad in hand.

“You threw this?” asked Kenobi, holding up the pad and looking amused. He looked so unassuming in person, but Jango had seen that footage of the draigon fight. In fact, he’d saved it to his own data chip since he knew he’d want to watch it again. There had been something mesmerizing about how Kenobi had danced, raining down death on his enemies.

“I can throw it even further away if you like?” offered Kenobi, since Jango hadn’t answered.

Jango grunted. “I wish. I’d use it for a blaster target if I could.” Not a bad idea for some training though if you had a Jetii who could levitate things. He bet they could make up a training scenario much more challenging than the training droids offered. A thought for later though. He held out his hand for the pad.

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Kenobi hesitantly.

That wasn’t a bad idea. Buir already knew the problem and had heard or given rants on it before. Myles was preoccupied with Komari. And maybe explaining the problem to someone who didn’t know anything about it would open up new solutions on the issue. The technical data on the pad was sensitive, but the actual details weren’t.

“Yeah. Come in, Kenobi.” He stood aside.

“You can call me Obi-wan.”

“I’m Jango then. What do you know about Mandalorian space?”

“Not much.” Obi-wan looked a bit chagrined at the fact, though Jango didn’t expect him to know anything.

Jango went over to the holo projector and keyed it up. “This is Concordia, one of Manda’yaim’s moons. You see all those scars on the surface?”

Obi-wan nodded.

“Those are beskar mines. It used to be a farming province, but they’re almost all gone now in favor of the mines. It’s also where we tracked Death Watch’s ships after their defeat at Galidraan.” He paused, wanting to see if Obi-wan spotted the problem.

Obi-wan studied the planet’s holo. “So Death Watch are hiding somewhere on planet, probably in the abandoned mines. You have hundreds, maybe thousands of inactive mines there, which you’ll have to hunt through to find them. And then, if you do, you’ll have a truly nasty fight in closes quarters where Death Watch will control the terrain, and undoubtedly have escape tunnels prepared. Then you’ll have to start all over again.”

The jet’ika truly did understand. “Exactly. It’s like trying to dig out a gomole once they’ve gotten into your field.” He had faint memories of his buir cursing out a gomole colony that had moved into one of their fields on Concord Dawn. It had been amusing to 7 year old him. “And we don’t have the option of just blowing up the field like you do for gomoles.” Concordia supplied at least half of the sector’s beskar.

“Have you asked the miners on planet?”

“We sent out coms, but the ones who’ve responded say they haven’t seen anything. Clan Vizsla owns quite a few stakes in many of the mining companies as well so we’re not expecting them to say anything against their aliit.” He spotted Obi-wan’s confusion. “Tor Vizsla,” he couldn’t help his grimace at the shabuir’s name, “is still the nominal leader of Clan Vizsla, even though they’re splintered into a bunch of factions like most of the larger clans these days.” Clans Kryze and Wren were the same way. “It’s not illegal to be a member of Death Watch, though their actions usually are, so most of the rest of the clan will just be ignoring him. Those from Clan Vizsla who have joined the True Mandalorians are kept on an info diet.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“It is. It doesn’t help that Vizsla is also claiming to be Mand’alor. If we could just get him to face buir in battle then this would all be settled, but the hut’uun always runs when he thinks he might have to fight anyone head on. So much for their warrior faith,” he finished with a sneer.

Obi-wan had one hand on his chin, considering the holo. “What about the farmers? Did you contact them?”

They hadn’t. “They’re pretty isolated,” said Jango. “And don’t like outsiders.” You had to be as stubborn as, well, a Mandalorian to stay and farm on a moon that had been largely stripped apart by mining.

Obi-wan looked excited. “That’s good then! They probably keep tabs on anything going on around them, especially outsiders.”

“Death Watch may still be avoiding them, but that’s a good idea. We’ll contact them.”

Obi-wan smiled at him. “You can also ask Master Dooku for help. And Master Fay when she gets back. Oh!” He looked excited. “Master Dooku said Master Koon is coming! He’d be great to ask. He’s taught some of our classes, and he has really strong telepathy. Maybe he can find them!”

Jango didn’t know how that would work with the beskar in the mines, but it was worth considering. “Maybe,” he echoed. He felt a lot more hopeful than he had several minutes before.

He considered the jet’ika next to him. He was in need of a break, and there was no better way than fighting to get to know a person. “Your buir teach you to fire a blaster yet?”

“We learn how to do that at the Temple,” said Obi-wan primly. Jango doubted it was anything close to the level of Mandalorian blaster training, but he also wasn’t going to step on Holdan’s toes. He’d been angry at the entire galaxy at the time, but he still remembered Jaster’s first training to use a blaster fondly. That Ob’ika knew how to use one would be good enough.

“Let’s go do some blaster training then.”

“I was going to do some lightsaber practice when I almost got hit by your pad,” admitted Obi-wan, patting the lightsaber where it hung from his belt. “I haven’t been practicing as much as I should.”

Jango shrugged. “No reason I can’t shoot _at_ you as well. Let’s go.”


	36. Feemor 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Feemor reluctantly visits Mandalore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all my amazing reviewers:D Your words inspire me and I seem to up the chapter count every week lol
> 
> Next up is Fay:)

Feemor eyed the planet of Mandalore as his transport descended with a certain amount of trepidation. He had exchanged a few messages with Aerta Kryze since his assignment to look into the author of _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_. The True Mandalorians were on route to Mandalore at the time so they had to be short, but she had suggested they meet so she could share all her data with him. It was apparently too much for it to be transmitted over coms.

Feemor was suspicious that this was just an excuse to get to meet him in person. However, Kryze was an expert slicer and infiltration expert so she might very well have more data than your average Mandalorian. He’d have to wait and see (and avoid doing anything interesting or cool in front of any Mandalorians).

As it was, he kept his lightsaber and face well hidden under his red-brown cloak, and most Mandalorians didn’t give him a second look. He headed for a nearby cantina called The Mythosaur’s Bite, easily distinguishable by the two long mythosaur tusks crossed near the tips to make an entrance way. It only occurred to him after he was inside that this was not the usual cantina near a spaceport he was expecting; everyone had armor on, including the bartender. His very presence without armor was like a neon sign saying he was confident enough to walk into a True Mandalorian bar without being one himself.

Sure enough, every single person there turned their head or helmet to stare at him when he entered. He grit his teeth under the cloak and headed towards a grinning Aerta Kryze. Outside of a hologram, he could now see she had natural green hair, and her skin had a green/blue tinge which pointed at non-human ancestry.

“A True Mandalorian bar? Really?” he asked as he sat down. She pushed a thick, black looking drink his way.

“The offworlder cantina has osik ale,” she said with a shit-eating grin. He began to realize that Aerta Krzye was going to be just as annoying as her brother, but in a completely different way.

“You may as well take off the hood, Feemor. Most of them have already clocked you as a Jedi.”

He sighed, but did as suggested. She was doing something on her own pad, probably some sort of slicing program. “Do you have a second name by the way?” she asked.

“No. It’s just Feemor.” His birth planet didn’t use them, and he’d never seen the need to make one up.

She pulled a chip out of her pad and slid it across the table.

“This doesn’t seem like a very secure place to meet,” Feemor said pointedly. Everyone in the bar was either blatantly, or covertly watching their table.

“True,” she said cheerfully. “Don’t say anything you don’t want out on the holonet.” She pointed to the data access chip. “If you have a pad, you can plug it in there, if not, there’s a table port.” Feemor did have a pad where he had been outlining his research, but he was wary of plugging anything a slicer gave him into his own pad. He put it in the table instead.

“That will give you access to the Mandalorian section of the Holonet,” said Kryze.

Pages and pages of data unfolded in the air. Including an entire section that caused him to raise his eyebrow. “Jetiinet?”

Aerta shrugged. “Not very original, but that’s where the Mando’ade have set up their Jetii data and footage.”

It wasn’t fully relevant to his search for the author of _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ , but Feemor was too curious not to click on it. Prominent on the first page was a ranking of popular Jetii pages with someone named Jon Antilles at the top. Feemor had no idea who that was, but he recognized Master Fay as the second name, and several other masters and knights whose rankings were changing in real time before his eyes.

Then a particular page name caught his eye. _The Qui-gon Jinn Hate Squad_. He moved to click on it, even as he asked, “What did Qui-gon do to piss off the Mandalorians?”

“What _didn’t_ he do,” said Kryze dryly. “You know him?”

“He was my master,” answered Feemor, distracted by the page itself. Dear Force, Qui-gon had blatantly mistreated a kid in front of a Mandalorian several times _and_ not even gone to rescue this Obi-wan Kenobi when he got sold into slavery by Xanatos of all people? This was the worst diplomatic snafu he’d ever seen Qui-gon get into, and he’d had to soothe over many a ruffled feather during his time as Qui-gon’s padawan.

Feemor could still remember the moment of relief and dismay when he heard that Qui-gon had repudiated ever having a padawan. It had caused Feemor a lot of anxiety about whether his whole knighthood was going to be thrown into question, but he’d guiltily thought it was probably a good thing for Qui-gon to not take another student.

Multiple trips to the mind-healers had made it clear that nothing was Feemor’s fault in their partnership; Qui-gon just treated everyone the same way. As his padawan, Feemor had been expected to be as competent as an actual Jedi Knight, but also follow Qui-gon’s orders to the letter. The Council had tried to send multiple different knights and masters on missions with them over the years, and Qui-gon treated them all the exact same way. Feemor and anyone they were working with were expected to keep up with Qui-gon’s actions, cover for his blunders and accidental acquisitions (90% of the time attributed to the “will of the Force”), and let Qui-gon make all the final decisions. Feemor was pretty sure he could count on one hand the number of Jedi who were actually willing to go on missions with Qui-gon at this point. And, sadly, this was all before Xanatos.

Sometimes, Feemor thought that the only reason he had gotten through a padawanship with Qui-gon was because he was a practical person who knew to ask for help. After the initial terror of their first few missions when he was thirteen, Feemor had signed up for every single class he thought might be relevant, and many that weren’t, just to get access to other masters and their teachings. Qui-gon still handled teaching him lightsaber techniques, but Feemor could tell the man was grateful that Feemor had farmed out everything else. Not that Qui-gon couldn’t be an affectionate and friendly master when he felt like it, but he certainly didn’t want a padawan taking up all his time. Or perhaps he just didn’t want Feemor doing so since he’d apparently smothered Xanatos in attention. Feemor was still working through his bitterness about that even now.

Belatedly, he realized the entire cantina had gone quiet, and Aerta Kryze was staring at him with startling intensity.

“You were that shabuir Jinn’s ad?” she asked.

“His first student, yes.”

“The one he rejected because he did a poor job with this dinii, Xanatos?”

The Mandalorians were terrifyingly well informed. “Yes.”

“Right,” said Kryze. “The Mand’alor’s definitely going to want to meet you.”

“I’d really rather just leave,” said Feemor. There were actual waves of sympathy he could sense in the Force from the hardened warriors who surrounded him. It was very disconcerting.

“I was supposed to bring you to meet him anyway after vetting you,” she explained. “There’s not a lot of data about you out there on the holonet, and I can’t give you the more secure intel until I do.”

Feemor sighed. That made perfect sense, but he didn’t have to like it. “Fine.” He proceeded to shut down his pad. “What’s a dinii anyway?” he asked, as they headed for the door.

“Lunatic.”

“Ah,” said Feemor. That made perfect sense from what he’d read about Xanatos’ plan on Bandomeer. He returned the friendly wave goodbye he was given by one of the Mandalorians near the door. He didn’t bother to pull his hood up again when they stepped outside.

++++++

Aerta led him to a large, walled compound which had two Mandalorians in full armor standing guard outside of the open gates. They were both scanned before they could go in, even though Aerta had to have been in and out of here thousands of times, and their scanner didn’t seem to even detect his lightsaber. He must have looked puzzled.

“Everyone going in gets scanned. Death Watch likes to plant bombs on unsuspecting targets,” said one of the guards helpfully. They pulled off their helmet after the scan, revealing they were Pantoran with dark blue skin and yellow eyes. “I’m Darna by the way. Nice to meet you.”

Their partner elbowed them in the side. “Get your buy’ce back on, you di’kut. We’re on duty!”

“Nice to meet you as well,” said Feemor with a brief bow, then hurried after Aerta Kryze. Much to his dismay, she led him right through a whole courtyard which had a number of Mandalorians doing target practice and hand to hand fighting. Feemor kept his eyes on the opposite side of the courtyard and ignored the pressure of their stares (and the shot of blaster fire followed by a yelp).

They passed another guard who waved them through and up a set of stairs. Aerta punched in a code and plugged in a lock cylinder before the door at the top slid opened.

“Mand’alor.” Aerta was addressing a man in silver armor with a yellow diamond across the chest plate and a red cape. “Jedi Knight Feemor is here.”

The Mand’alor motioned them inside. 

Aerta turned to him. “Feemor, this is the Mand’alor, Jaster Mereel. I’ll leave you with him and be back in an hour.” She turned to go, then turned back, the grin evident on her face. “Feemor is the former padawan of Jinn, alor.” She headed back down the steps, giving Feemor a friendly slap to the arm on her way out.

Mereel’s eyes widened, and he studied Feemor more closely. Feemor got the strangest impression he was being checked over for injuries.

“I haven’t actually seen Qui-gon in a few years,” he said, trying to head off more sympathy. Not since that last joint sparring session. Qui-gon had been in a very good mood then, talking about how Feemor’s saber work made him proud. Feemor would always wonder if the pride had been in him, or if it had actually been about being able to throw a successful knight in the faces of those who were questioning how well Qui-gon was teaching Xanatos. He suspected the later while his heart hoped it was the former.

Kark. He was going to have to schedule a meeting with his mind healer after this.

“You know, here on Mandalore, children can actually disown their parents,” said Mereel.

“I appreciate the cultural knowledge, Mand’alor,” said Feemor, willing the man to drop the topic.

Fortunately, he seemed to get the hint. He gestured to a set of chairs around a small table in one corner of the office. “Come, sit down. And call me Jaster. You Jedi are big on titles, aren’t you?”

“You’re saying your people call you Jaster?” asked Feemor, a bit skeptically.

Jaster laughed. “When we’re not in battle, I’m lucky if they use my name instead of bastard and asshole.” He picked up a tall carafe on the table. “You ever try shig?”

“No, sir.” He took a sip of the steaming, golden beverage once it was poured into a clear cup, braced not to show any emotion no matter what it tasted like. He needn’t have bothered. It tasted of warm, slightly bitter citrus. “It’s lovely.”

Jaster pushed what looked like some red honey his way, but he didn’t need it.

“Now, Aerta tells me you’re on a mission to find the author of _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ and you’d like to share data.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What are you going to do when you find them?”

“Protect them from anyone who wants to hurt them due to the book.” After having spent the last few days reading up on Mandalorian politics, there was absolutely no doubt in Feemor’s mind that Death Watch was trying to hunt down Mo’ra D’Amor to kill them. It also wouldn’t surprise him if the New Mandalorians were doing the same, though probably to sue the author, or some other non-violent thing.

“And if they’re a Jedi?”

“What do you mean?”

“Would they be punished for writing it?” asked Jaster.

Oh, that’s what he meant. “There’s no rule against writing books in the Jedi Order. They might get a scolding at worst.” Though really, considering how the book was causing profound changes across the galaxy, writing it seemed to definitely fall under the will of the Force. Someone in the Council must agree considering the book was “accidently” sent to the entire Jedi Order yesterday. “The writer also isn’t any of the Jedi at the Temple.”

“Really?”

Feemor nodded. “I had Master Vesta, who’s in charge of Temple communications, look at the archived outgoing transmissions from the Temple for the past two years for the text of the novel, and communications with the Mandalorian sector. There was nothing other than an incursion by a slicer who could be traced back to Concord Dawn, but that was after the novel was published.”

Jaster grimaced. “I know someone got ahold of a bunch of your personnel files a couple of months back.”

Revenge was not the Jedi way, but that slicer better watch their back. Feemor had gotten the impression from Vesta that he had written a “special” program with that slicer’s name on it. Also, Feemor’s file must not have been included considering Aerta had to search his name and vet him.

“So what’s your theory then?” asked Jaster.

Feemor was unsure if he should tell him. He hadn’t been ordered to keep his mission in any way secret, nor did the True Mandalorians seem to be hunting down the author to do anything other than appreciate their work, but he also wasn’t sure about the security of their conversation right now.

The Mand’alor was a perceptive man. Just as he had noticed Feemor didn’t want to talk about Qui-gon anymore, he also realized the source of Feemor’s hesitation. “This room is scanned twice daily for listening devices and has jammers built in the walls, in case you were wondering. But let me tell you my theory first; I think it’s an older Mandalorian who knows their history and has spent time working with a Jedi on the Outer Rim or the Unknown Regions. There’s a bunch of us history fanatics who are debating the book, but I’ve lost touch with some of the Mandalorians I consulted with while writing the Supercommando Codex.”

“That agrees with my theory,” admitted Feemor. “I think it’s probably a member of ExplorCorps who ran into a Mandalorian in the Unknown Regions, but it could easily be the Mandalorian they ran into instead.”

“ExplorCorps?”

“There are four Jedi Service Corps which are made up of Jedi who didn’t become knights, for whatever reason, and Jedi Knights and Masters who feel called to do research or service. MedCorps, AgriCorps, ExplorCorps, and EduCorps. ExplorCorps have ships where they do scientific research, but they’re most well-known for sending out lone Jedi to map and explore the Unknown Regions and archaeological sites. They spend a lot of time travelling alone, and don’t have to report directly back to the Temple, so I think they’d have plenty of time to write and encounter Mandalorians.” Since they were so far from Temple authority, they also were more likely to have relaxed views on attachment. Feemor was not sure if it was true, but there were Temple rumors that some of them were married or had families.

Jaster looked stunned. “So you’re saying there are four other groups of Jedi out there that my people didn’t know about?”

Feemor winced. Had he just opened up the Corps to Mandalorian style courting? He sent a mental apology winging their way. “None of them are very large groups, and some don’t even carry lightsabers,” he warned. 

Jaster snorted. “That’s not going to stop the Mando’ade, but I like your theory,” he said. “I think you have a good chance of finding Mo’ra D’Amor. I’ll instruct Aerta to share our intel with you. I can’t send Kryze with you since she’s essential personnel, but there are plenty of verd’e who I can spare.”

Dammit. How to politely decline? “This is a solo mission, sir.”

“If you think I’m sending you off without some backup against Death Watch, you’re insane.”

“I’m trying to be lowkey and stealthy, sir. A Mandalorian in full armor is not stealthy.”

“I’ll let whoever I send with you know they’ll need to spend some time out of armor,” countered Jaster. His face took on a sardonic look. “And it’s a moot point anyway. Those di’kut’e are already fighting over who gets to go with you.” He motioned over Feemor’s shoulder to the window.

Feemor turned to look. There was a crowd of Mandalorians in the dirt-covered courtyard, centered on two Mandalorians who were fighting hand to hand.

“They haven’t even seen me fight,” muttered Feemor. That’s why he’d been very careful to seem unassuming here on Mandalore.

Jaster laughed. “You’re a Jedi Knight. They know you can fight. You’re handsome to boot, and no doubt they’ve already heard about Jinn.”

Feemor grimaced at that. Jaster clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t approve whoever wins if I think they aren’t right for you or the mission.”

“Now go see your ba’buir,” he ordered. “It’ll do him good. I’ll let Aerta know, and tell whatever verd’e wins the battle to track you down there.”

“My ba’buir?” wondered Feemor, feeling distinctly like he’d been outmaneuvered.

“Your grandfather, though I guess you Jetii would say grandmaster? Yan Dooku.”

“Master Dooku is here?” It hadn’t occurred to him that his grandmaster would have accompanied the Mandalorians back from Galidraan. Also, he’d never met the man. Both Dooku and Qui-gon shared a proclivity for being out of the Temple the majority of the time, though from what Feemor had heard, it may have been deliberate on one or both their parts that Feemor had never met Dooku.

“Yes. Him and a bunch of other Jedi are staying in one of the family suites.” Jaster’s com pinged, and he walked over to look at his pad. “And it seems there’s a Master Fay here to see me. If I don’t see you before you leave, good luck on your mission, Feemor.”


	37. Jaster 7/Mace 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Fay relishes delivering some information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your reviews for the latest chapter are particularly appreciated, even if they have inspired even more chapters I didn't intend on writing lol
> 
> I was going to write an excerpt for this chapter, but I think it ends on too funny a note to add one, so I'll write an extra long excerpt to make up for it next chapter:)

Jaster called Aerta while he was waiting for Fay to arrive. “Can you remind those di’kut’e out there fighting over the pretty new Jetii that the final decision is mine, and that he needs someone willing to go undercover with no armor?”

“Already on it, alor.” He could hear fighting in the background. “I reminded them they couldn’t fight for assignments, but promised the winners I’d introduce them before he leaves.” She cackled. “Then I told them there was an entrance fee to the whole tournament.”

Jaster glanced out the window again. Nobody had left the tournament, but Aerta was indeed on one corner of the fight with a bulging credit pouch on her waist.

Well. That was one way to do it. “Come up with the names of some verd’e who you think would actually work well with Feemor, and won’t press him on too much on either sex or Jinn.” The poor man obviously had some trauma from his buir rejecting him, despite soldiering through with admirable poise.

“’Lek, alor!”

His entryway chimed, so Jaster went over to his desk to trigger the door opening. Master Fay was on the other side, her robes pristine despite the fact that she must have spent the night out in the wastelands. He had seen the vid from Bandomeer so he knew she was a fighter, but it was still hard to wrap his mind around her being the oldest being on this planet. She was short and looked to be in her twenties at best.

Then again, the smile she gave when she saw him did make him feel that some ancient predator was watching. He wondered if she’d be willing to answer some of his questions about history…

“Mand’alor Mereel. A pleasure to meet you. I have some information you will like.”

And he did. He should have pressed Feemor for more info on all the Corps apparently because he’d just been thinking of them in terms of there being non-fighting Jedi he could dangle in front of the New Mandalorians. But healing the Dral’Han? He was from Concord Dawn just like Jango; Mandalorian space’s one planet where they had been able to reclaim some of the soils to have a decent farming economy. If the AgriCorps could help them actually turn a profit rather than barely produce enough food to stay alive? If they could heal the actual wastelands of the Dral’Han here on Mandalore?

It would be a priceless service, but if what Fay said was true, the AgriCorps didn’t even charge!

He realized Fay was grinning softly at him before the smile turned sharp. “I need to contact the Council with my findings. I hope I can borrow your official communications center. You’ll have to stay silent, but would you like to watch?”

++++++

“Master Fay,” said Oppo. “It has been a long time since you have graced the Temple and our Council with your presence.”

Her holo gave a nod of agreement. “As I told the Council many years ago, I go where the Force wills it. There are so many Jedi already on Coruscant, the Force rarely, if ever, calls me there.” Mace had to wonder if there was anything familiar to Master Fay here on Coruscant other than a few of the longer lived Jedi. “The Force did call me here to Mandalore, and I have been listening. I wandered first the city, then out into the reclaimed lands they are farming, then further still into the wastelands of the Excision. This planet and the entire system are in dire need of AgriCorps intervention.” They had all just recently read the brief on Mandalore, so they knew of the Republic bombing several hundred years ago.

“Send Jedi after the Excision, we did,” said Yoda.

Fay nodded. “I remember; there was little they could do in the face of such horror. But it has been several hundred years and the water and soils have filtered enough of the poisons that AgriCorps methods should be able to provide results, and I believe we have new ways of dealing with radiation. Mandalore used to have jungles, teaming with life.” Her eyes were half lidded, as if she were staring at the jungles rather than them. That might possibly be the case.

“The Jedi weren’t responsible for the Mandalorian Excision,” pointed out Adi.

“We weren’t, but the Republic was, and we _are_ loyal to that same Republic. It’s high time we make reparations.”

Even Piell sighed. “The Senate is not going to see it that way,” he said.

“Did you tell the Mand’alor this?” Mace asked. If she hadn’t, then they could work out what they could offer the Mandalorians in peace.

“Yes. He wasn’t aware of the AgriCorps mission statement to restore damaged planets and soils, but he was glad to hear it.” Mace held back a sigh. So much for that hope. He mentally added debates on how to help Mandalore into their already crowded Council meeting schedule.

“That is all the Force wished me to say,” said Fay, “but before I go, there I something I need clarity on.” Every older Council member in the room tensed. Oppo Rancisis’ spindly fingers were digging into the sides of his chair.

“I met Obi-wan Kenobi, and I’m confused,” said Fay, her face showing only concern. A sense of alarm echoed through all the permanent members of the Council. “There was no age limit on initiates when last I checked. How do you even apply it to some of the initiates? At 13, Yoda was just an adorable baby. I have the holos to prove it.”

“Sent away at the equivalent age for their species, they are,” said Yoda firmly. A little too firmly.

“But Yoda, you were such a cute little baby.” Fay’s smile was almost predatory. “Even if you were such a terror when you were a toddler. I remember when you absolutely destroyed the frog population in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Or that time–”

“Not relevant, this is,” interrupted Yoda.

“The initiate age to be sent from the Temple was lowered approximately fifty years ago,” interjected Ki-adi Mundi, much to Mace’s dismay. Watching Yoda squirm under Master Fay’s interrogation was an unexpected delight. Ki-adi continued to read from his pad. “It seems to have been done by the Council in order to counter the falling numbers of Jedi Corps members.”

“And has it increased their numbers?” Fay asked.

Ki-Adi shook his head. “I don’t know. The report doesn’t say.” Nor did the older Council members in the room chime in, so no one seems to have checked.

“That’s something to look into,” said Fay. She had not turned away to look at Ki-Adi, but was still staring straight at Yoda. “It’s hard to remember when you get old what it was like to be a youngling. The worries and fears of our youth seem so far away and inconsequential. But they are everything to the little ones who have only a few scant years of experience.” Yoda’s ears were slowly dropping. Mace found himself holding his breath. Although she was not naming any names, it was clear this speech was meant for Yoda alone. “As their elders, it’s our duty to make sure their lives are easier than our own, not harder.”

Yoda’s face was stuck in a grimace, his ears pointing towards the ground.

“And sometimes all we can do is acknowledge that we’ve hurt them, and try to be better. The children are our future, as the Mandalorians say,” finished Fay.

Yoda bowed his head towards Fay, acknowledging her words. Despite the mistakes he’d made recently, it was common knowledge that he loved working the crèche and with the younglings.

That seemed to be enough for Fay, who nodded and began to reach for the com to turn it off before pausing. “Oh yes, one last thing.” She made deliberate eye contact with several of them. “If you don’t find Obi-wan a master soon, I will take him and his buir with me to the Outer Rim and give him to the first padawan-less Jedi I meet. Jon Antilles contacted me recently.” She signed off.

Mace could feel everyone’s dismay in the Force. Antilles was a bit of a disaster, and had a dubious lineage. The idea of two of him was horrible.

“Wait,” said Poli Dapatian through his respirator. “Jon Antilles is alive?”


	38. Dooku 5/Feemor 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dooku does some self-reflection and Feemor plans an escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, did this chapter hate me. Feemor and Dooku didn't want to talk, ugh. I've had the extra long excerpt written since last chapter was posted, but every time I tried to write the main part of this chapter, either Feemor or Dooku were like, nope. 
> 
> Thank you, as always, to my lovely reviewers. You make my day:)
> 
> Next chapter will be Mace dealing with some of the fall out of the Order reading the Book... Quinlan appears:D

Yan had ended up spending the night meditating rather than sleeping. He’d had the uncomfortable realization sometime during his conversation with T’ra Saa (which hadn’t even mentioned Yoda!), that the reason he kept himself so dignified and put together in the eyes of others at all times was his self-defense against Yoda’s mocking and teasing.

_Growing too tall, my padawan is. Failed a test, my padawan has. Not know the answer, did you? Reading too many books, my padawan is. Always in the Archives, I find him._

The troll mocked because he cared, Yan was certain of that. But when he was 16 years old, having his questions or actions mocked had stung his ego, especially when he compared it to Sifo-Dyas’s excellent padawanship with the master Yan had wanted, Master Kostana. He’d have been overjoyed to spend his time as a padawan looking for obscure ancient Force texts mixed in with the occasional mission. Instead, he’d had the pressure of being padawan to the Grandmaster of the Order. It was no wonder he had often decided to use the Archives to find his answers rather than get a non-answer or mocking from Yoda.

His meditation had revealed he’d done the opposite with his padawans, always giving them his honest opinions on their progress and straightforward answers, or at least pointing them towards where they could find those answers in the Archives. He didn’t sugarcoat his critiques either, though he always did them in private; a courtesy Yoda hadn’t always granted him. This method seemed to have suited Rael, but not Qui-gon or Komari.

He sighed and took another sip of the frankly mediocre caf the Mandalorians kept on hand (not that he was going to tell Jaster that). Yan suspected they didn’t care much how it tasted since they all loaded it up with an alarming amount of spices. He had tried the shig, which was something like a cross between a tisane and a tea, but found he didn’t like the tartness.

Holdan Lla took a seat across from him at the communal table near the courtyard of their quarters. He took a long sip of his spiced caf before studying Yan critically.

“You all right there, Dooku?”

Yan had discovered last night, when Lla sat in on his debrief of Obi-wan, that the Mandalorian was observant, showed a lot of self-restraint and above all, kind. He was obviously very annoyed with Qui-gon, but his concerns were wholly focused on Obi-wan, both talking about how amazing he had been on the way to and on Bandomeer, and also trying to spare Obi-wan from reliving anything too traumatic. Yan had been relieved that Lla had been there to provide support, especially since his debrief mostly consisted of reading questions from T’ra Saa he’d written down on a pad.

“You’re to talk to a mind healer at the Temple, tomorrow afternoon, young one,” he’d said near the end.

Obi-wan had looked upset. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been through a traumatic experience and they want to check that you’re okay,” Lla had said while Yan had floundered for an answer. “I was actually going to set you up to talk to a therapist here, but a Jedi mind healer would be better.” He had nodded his head towards Yan, who was grateful for the explanation. (He’d had to pretty much order Komari to com a mind healer while he was doing this debriefing.)

“With that said, I feel I should offer my apologies on behalf of Qui-gon, Initiate Kenobi,” Yan had said, the words coming out much quicker than he would have liked. “He was my padawan, and I fear that by failing him, I have failed you.”

“He didn’t fail me.” Obi-wan had looked puzzled.

“He did!” Lla was incensed. “That shabuir didn’t even look for you when you went missing, Ob’ika! On a four day trip, he checked up on you once!”

“But I wasn’t his mission,” Obi-wan had pointed out.

Lla had taken a deep breath and calmed himself down. He had excellent emotional control, which was a good sign for him parenting a Force sensitive child. “If you were out on a mission and a kid went missing, what would you do? If you found out you were travelling with a single kid with no family on a mining ship full of people trying to kill each other and pirates, would you keep an eye out for that kid?”

“Yes, I would,” Obi-wan had said after a long moment, with a hesitant glance at Yan. He had realized Obi-wan thought this was some sort of a test.

“You’d be right to do so,” Yan had affirmed, though he could think of circumstances on missions where they wouldn’t be free to search for a missing child. Bandomeer was not one of those missions, however. “As the senior Jedi present he should have been looking after you as a youngling. Nor should you have ever been sent on that assignment without a proper escort, not to mention an evaluation of your skills and preferences.” He’d been kept apprised of Yoda’s manipulations on that front by Jocasta, though he despaired of anyone being able to take Yoda to task for it.

“You also,” he’d said, remembering his initial thoughts on the subject, “should be proud of your accomplishments. There are Jedi Knights who would have struggled in the situations you found yourself in.” The boy had lit up like the sun, and Yan had allowed himself a small, self-satisfied smile.

Lla had given him a grateful look at he steered Obi-wan off to bed after that. Yan had contemplated finding a drink, but ended up settling into his night long meditation, which is what brought him back to here and now, sitting at a table with his mediocre caf, and Holdan Lla sitting across from him.

“I’m fine,” he said. He was feeling too… raw to open up to anyone else, especially someone he had known for less than a day. He ignored the dubious look Lla gave him. “Where is Obi-wan this morning?”

“He said he felt like he’d been neglecting his lightsaber practice. Where’s your ad?” There really was no point in correcting Mandalorians about the technical difference between padawan and son/daughter; they used the terms interchangeably anyway.

“She’s getting to know the younger Mandalorians here,” said Yan, carefully not mentioning that it was on the mind healer’s orders. T’ra Saa had said Komari needed to spend more time with other teenagers so that she’d have safer locations than her master to focus her romantic intentions. He’d do the same thing when they got back to the temple, but for now, the younger Mandalorians she’d befriended that first day were a good enough substitute. He just hoped she wasn’t spending the entire day brawling with them.

“Your ad isn’t training out in the open, but Obi-wan and Fett are having a fun time training in one of the courtyards,” offered Lla.

“What does Jango have to do with lightsaber practice?” Yan asked, puzzled.

Lla laughed. “Oh, they’re playing some sort of game seeing who can get the most ricochets off beskar and Ob’ika’s lightsaber in order to make some trick shots.”

“How do you know that?”

Lla tapped his vambrace where his com was. “My vod’e are keeping me updated. I don’t think you Jetii can do much right now without it being reported by someone.” He seemed a tad bit apologetic about the continuing Mandalorian obsession.

Yan sighed. “Are they at least using the lowest lightsaber and blaster settings?”

“Yes. Neither Fett nor my ad are stupid.”

He’d leave them to it then. It sounded like a decent training exercise.

++++++

Feemor followed the Mandalorian that Jaster had called to escort him to Dooku. His mind was far away, ignoring the looks he was getting from interested Mandos, but keeping his eyes peeled for ways out which didn’t include a Mandalorian escort. The high walls at the edges of the compound would be easy to scale with the Force. The trouble would be getting off planet when he was limited to public transport.

He was shown into a small courtyard which seemed to mimic the layout of the larger areas of the compound with rooms surrounding a courtyard. Master Dooku was sat at a long table under an awning to one side, talking to a Mandalorian with black hair. From the blank look on the Master’s face when Feemor approached, he didn’t even recognize him. Feemor had suspected that would be the case.

“Grandmaster,” he said with a bow. “The Mand’alor insisted I check in before I leave on my mission.”

“Knight Feemor,” said Master Dooku, after a moment. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in person for nearly a decade.”

“I don’t think we’ve ever met,” said Feemor, forcing some good cheer into his voice.

They both turned as one to look at the Mandalorian who had projected a surge of anger and confusion. “You’re his ba’buir, but you’ve never met?” they asked.

“Qui-gon has always been insistent I never go near his padawans, or interfere in their training. I offered to tutor Feemor in Form II, soon after their partnership started, and Qui-gon didn’t take it well.” He turned his attention to Feemor. “This is Holdan Lla, Obi-wan Kenobi’s new father. Despite Qui-gon’s instructions, I have observed you in the training salles a few times. What form did you settle on in the end?”

“Master Qui-gon insisted on Ataru, but I’ve been shifting towards Shii-Cho since I became a knight.” Shii-Cho, being the first form all initiates were taught, was considered rather basic by most Jedi, but to Feemor, the set forms that could be practiced without an opponent had become his core form as a lone Jedi Watchman.

“Hmm. You should talk with Knight Fisto. He’s turning it into a viable form.”

“If I get the chance,” said Feemor. He had no idea if he was going back to his post as a watchman after this mission, or if he’d been reassigned permanently. “May I talk to you privately, Grandmaster?”

“Let’s go to my room.” He stood up, towering over them both. “Obi-wan’s appointment is at two,” he said to Lla. They headed for one of the nearby rooms.

“Now, what is it you need?” asked Master Dooku once they were settled.

“First, you should probably know that the Mandalorians have an actual group formed called the _Qui-gon Jinn Hate Squad_.”

Master Dooku placed his palm over his face. “Of course they do,” he said, his voice a bit muffled. He put his hand down with a sigh. “He’s to be grounded in the Temple and forced into therapy the moment he gets there, so hopefully that will keep him from being killed by one of them.”

Feemor had been honestly uncertain what punishment, if any, Qui-gon was going to face. It was well known his actions were often championed by Yoda as his favorite grandpadawan. “I have to wonder how well he’s going to take to therapy,” he said carefully, wondering at his Grandmaster’s opinion on the subject.

“He’s going to hate it, and whoever Master T’ra Saa assigns as his mind healer is going to need a backbone of durasteel,” said Master Dooku flatly. “But they won’t let him leave on missions until he’s better so I have hope someone will get through to him.” His grandmaster looked very tired.

“He never had a problem with me going to the mind healers,” Feemor offered. But then Qui-gon had never had any problems with Feemor arranging his own schedule so long as he left time for saber training.

A thought occurred to him. “Will the initiate, Obi-wan, be all right? Master-wise, I mean,” asked Feemor.

“He has plenty of time to be chosen now. His conduct on the mission to Bandomeer was excellent. The Council of Reassignment wants to reevaluate his actual education once he gets back to the Temple, and it’s very clear that Yoda was essentially trying to poach him for our lineage. When that fact hits the temple gossips, he’s sure to have some interested masters.”

Masters who might have to go up against Yoda for a padawan he wanted in his lineage, but with Qui-gon unacceptable, and Yoda refusing to take any more padawans in his old age, Yoda would have a hard battle trying to keep Obi-wan in his lineage. “Does Obi-wan know that?” Feemor asked. He well remembered the anxiety of his twelfth year at the Temple. “He may think they just want him back at the Temple to evaluate him for a different corps position since he’s thirteen.”

“His birthday is next week apparently. Is thirteen a hard deadline now?” Master Dooku seemed puzzled by the idea. “I was chosen at sixteen, and so were most of my crèchemates. We could have taken the initiate trials earlier, but there was no point in doing so back then. I know I took Komari on younger, but I had assumed she was just eager.”

“As far as I know, it’s a hard rule that padawans must be chosen before their thirteenth birthday. You will greatly put his mind at ease if you let him know they’re waiving that rule for him.”

“I shall do so then,” said Master Dooku, still looking a bit appalled by the very idea. “You said ‘first’ before?”

“Ah, yes,” said Feemor. “I wanted to ask you, as the senior Jedi on planet, will it cause a diplomatic incident if I disappear without the escort the Mand’alor wants to send with me? My mission is to find the author of _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma,_ and protect them from any harm from Mandalorians who are less than pleased about the book.”

“Death Watch,” said Master Dooku.

“Yes, though I’m sure there are New Mandalorians who hate the book as well. They’re just more likely to be less… deadly in their consternation. I appreciate the Mand’alor’s thoughtfulness, but I really don’t need the help.”

“And you don’t want one of them following you around lusting after you the entire time,” said Master Dooku knowingly.

Feemor nodded. “That too.”

“Well, helping my grandpadawan escape is the least I can do. While Jaster will be annoyed, I doubt it will cause much of an incident. Have you talked to Jocasta about your theories on the author’s identity?”

Master Dooku was probably one of the few who casually talked to Madame Nu at all. Her iron rule of the Archives had left its impression on successive generations of Jedi. “No, Grandmaster.”

“Well, see that you do. She undoubtedly has it narrowed down to a few candidates if it’s a Jedi. Here is my com code and here is Jocasta’s.”

“Thank you, Grandmaster.”

“No thanks are needed, but they are accepted, nonetheless.” Master Dooku hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Please keep in touch with me as well, Feemor. I was wrong to let Qui-gon keep me from contacting you, especially after you were knighted.”

Feemor had to stop himself from gaping in disbelief. This was not the Master Dooku he had heard Qui-gon rant about, or the strict, forbidding man spoken of in temple gossip. “I would like that,” he admitted.

Dooku granted him a small smile, before it faded into his usual stern façade. “Do you need to make your escape right away?”

“Aerta Kryze owes me some data, but I hope to leave as soon as I have it.”

“Very well. I’ll gather up the knights for some lightsaber training out in one of the Mandalorian training areas during the next hour. That should distract them all enough for you to make it out. May the Force be with you.”

++++++

_Clan Awaud controlled a large swath of land which included their main enclave in the jungles to the west and this desert region to the north of their territory. The desert canyons and mountains weren’t being exploited right now due to the war, but they did have mineralogical resources buried underground which the clan planned to use in the future._

_As a result, when word came from farmers who lived on the edge of the desert that there had been a lot of ship activity in the area, Naured and some others from his clan had been sent out as aerial scouts to see what was going on. The Clan Head thought that some other clan may be trying to encroach on Clan Awaud’s territory._

_Naured had been out in the desert for a few days before he spotted a ship flying low at night towards the eastern mountains. He had spent the day going in the same direction, but diverted under a nearby rock shelter for cover when he saw a ship heading back his way. It was the first ship he’d seen in daylight and he was confused. That wasn’t a Mandalorian design, but the fifty or so warriors who got off the ship when it landed were certainly wearing Mandalorian armor._

_The ship went back towards the east after dropping the Mandalorians off. The other Mandalorians formed up into a square five across, ten deep and marched towards a deep canyon entrance nearby._

_Very strange. Marching in orderly formations was not a popular Mandalorian tactic, since their way of fighting tended to support more individual fighting styles. And where was their air support?_

_He belatedly remembered to pull out his rifle with its scope since the magnification in his buy’ce was osik. Unfortunately, they were facing away from him so he couldn’t see any clan insignia beyond the edges of some white paint on their pauldrons._

_They reached the edge of the canyon when a large boulder detached from the edge and rolled with impossible speed at their bunched up ranks. Some of the Mandalorians on the edges of the formation were able to jump out of the way and the final rank noticed in time, but just like that, there were only ten or so Mandalorians standing._

_There was a flash of light on the edge of his scope. Naured swung the scope around, looking for the source but only saw another verd on the ground, their armor smoking._

_What the kriff?_

_He switched back to his buy’ce to get a wider view and finally saw the source of the attack._

_Jetii. A single Jetii was systematically fighting their way through the remaining verd’e, the green of their weapon flashing in the distance._


	39. Mace 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinlan! Quinlan, no!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all my wonderful reviewers. It's really a joy to read your comments:) 
> 
> We'll be back on Mandalore next chapter.

Tera Sinube set his tray down next to Mace’s. He took his time peeling a fruit, and setting the resulting wedges into some porridge. Mace finished his own late midday meal in the time it took him.

“I’ll need some help after the meal, if you feel up to it,” said Tera finally. “We’ll have to leave the Temple.” Mace was all for that. This morning’s Council session had been grueling, even though the pause to watch Master Fay verbally take down Yoda had been an unexpected delight.

“Of course,” he said.

Tera pulled out a pad and tilted it so that Mace could see the screen.

Tera,

Could you check on Quinlan for me? The Force tells me he’s gone and done something stupid.

-Tholme

“Quinlan Vos?” asked Mace. The Kiffar padawan was a troublemaker on a good day who tended to get stir crazy when his master was out of the temple. This was a common occurrence since Tholme was often on missions that weren’t appropriate for a 14 year old. Tholme was currently investigating a bunch of missing children reports from along the Perlemian Trade Route near Gizer. He had (rightfully) refused to take his padawan into such a situation, but considering Knight Fisto had caught Vos trying to dye one of the fountains in the Room of a Thousand Fountains purple just the other day, Vos was undoubtedly unhappy about being left behind.

“Yes. Quinlan. Tholme often asks me to check on him while he’s gone. Boy’s too curious for his own good, eh?”

“So you checked in on him and couldn’t find him,” said Mace.

“Yes,” Tera said, then took a slow bite of his porridge. Tera’s pad chimed. He pulled it back toward him to scroll through it. His eyes widened. He pushed the pad over to Mace then began to eat much faster than before.

Master Sinube,

While looking for Vos, we discovered that the initiate he has a bond with, Aayla Secura, is also missing. Quinlan has been known to take her on adventures with him around the Temple. Please make sure he is with her and that he returns her as soon as possible.

\- Mak’toh

Mace bussed his and Tera’s trays before they both headed towards the main entrance to the Temple.

“Where do you think they are?”

“Ever since the book was _accidentally_ sent to every Jedi, Padawan Kiro has been the subject of a lot of curiosity and some envy. Quinlan has been hounding her with questions, eh?”

Mace was honestly a bit surprised that it hadn’t required the second email telling the Jedi _not_ to read it for the boy to read the book, but he supposed Padawan Kiro’s presence had prompted Vos to take a look at it. “You think he’s gone to see some Mandalorians?”

Tera nodded. “I imagine he’s gone to Little Keldabe. It’s on the opposite side of the planet and several levels down.”

“We better get moving if we want them back before nightfall.”

++++++

Little Keldabe didn’t have any markers indicating you were in Mandalorian territory, but the spicy smells that wafted in the air, and the appearance of a large number of Mandalorians in full or partial armor was a big giveaway. So was their utter shock in the Force, or through body language at two grown Jedi appearing in their midst.

Mace briefly wished they could have come incognito, but dismissed that as a pipe dream. Vos had undoubtedly not been hiding his or Aayla’s presence.

Tera ambled over to a booth which appeared to be selling meat on skewers covered in a bright red sauce. The Mandalorian behind the booth had vambraces and pauldrons but if they had any other armor on, it was covered by the big, spice stained apron.

“Excuse me, young one,” said Tera, going for his best senile elder impression; the seller was pushing 50s for a human. “Have you seen a young Kiffar with a yellow tattoo across his face, possibly accompanied by a young Twi’lek?”

Mace was feeling rather tense considering the eyes of every Mandalorian in the street were on them, and some were drifting their way towards them. The Force was calm, but Mace’s base instincts were screaming at him so he turned away from the food stall so he was facing them. Some looked away, often blushing that they’d been caught, but being Mandalorians, quite a few just returned his stare. One Zabrack leered.

“The Jet’ika? He and the other ade are playing,” said the seller, waving a hand towards their right.

“Thank you,” said Tera, before hobbling off in that direction, going extra heavy on the cane. It occurred to Mace that unless there were some elderly Mandalorians around, all the Mandalorians more prurient attention was going to be on him. He sighed. Near the end of the street were two Mandalorians, one seated on a box, the other standing, rifle in hand. They were essentially standing guard over an entryway between the corners of two buildings.

“Don’t worry, Jetii. We’ve been keeping an eye on them,” said the seated Mandalorian on the right in blue and yellow armor. Neither guard stopped them as they went through.

The area past there was a courtyard boxed in on most sides by buildings with lighting affixed to the ceiling overhead. The courtyard had two large circles drawn at either end which no doubt figured in some game involving balls, but that was not what it was being used for.

Quinlan was stood right in the center of the courtyard in a crude circle drawn in chalk. What had to be every single Mandalorian child and teen in Little Keldabe was throwing balls at him with all their strength. Quinlan was using the Force to dodge, flip or redirect every ball that came near him.

Mace would have been more impressed by the display if he didn’t spot Aayla with two other under five year olds sitting on a series of crates along one wall. She was cheering excitedly for Quinlan, completely oblivious to the balls whizzing right by her and the other younglings.

“Enough!” Mace added a touch of the Force to his voice to amplify it. The Mandalorians stopped throwing. Quinlan dodged some final balls, but Mace’s attention was on Aayla and her friends. Luckily, Tera’s attention was also there, and he had frozen the ball that was about to hit the zabrak toddler on her left in the face.

“Were any of you watching and protecting the younglings from stray balls?”

A dark-skinned human teen winced, as did many of the others. “Sorry, Sir. The balls don’t usually get anywhere near that area.”

Tera came up, the three little ones following behind him, hands clasping each other with Aayla clinging to his robe. “Next time you play, you will be more aware of your surroundings, eh?” he said.

“ ‘Lek.” “Yes.” “Yes, Sir.” “Lek, Jetii.” Their replies all overlapped each other .The oldest especially coming to attention

Once he was satisfied they were taking Tera seriously, Mace turned his attention to Vos, who made a show of looking unconcerned. “Playtime is over, Padawan Vos.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” he said cheekily. Mace had no idea how Tholme dealt with him.

A glance over at Aayla showed she was beginning to look disgruntled and tired. Mace knew from his own time working in the crèche as a padawan that this was a child in desperate need of a nap. The Zabrak toddler on her right had a very similar face while the third, near-human child simply walked over to one of the older kids and was immediately picked up and hugged.

Mace was wondering what to do with the Zabrak toddler when a large Mandalorian in green and silver armor strode into the courtyard and went straight for the kid. The little Zabrak rushed to hug one enormous calf before being picked up one handed to cuddle against the being’s armor.

Mace was surprised to feel a whisper of the Force as the Mandalorian reached out with it to double check on the child.

“You have the Force,” he said. He didn’t know why he was surprised. Up until a few months ago, he doubted the Mandalorians ever even considered giving up their children to the Jedi.

For all they were a big being, the voice that came out of the helmet was soft spoken. “I do have some of the ka’ra, Jetii. It doesn’t work all the time, but it has saved me, and brought me my ad.”

If Mace wasn’t mistaken, their helmet was beskar, which meant it was rather impressive they could reach the Force at all with no training. “The Jedi would be happy to offer you some tips, if you are so inclined,” Mace said. He didn’t think it was prudent to ask if they had considered the beskar issue.

“I will think on it,” they said after a long moment. “Say goodbye to your friends, ad’ika.”

The little Zabrak waved and their mouth moved in a soft goodbye that was lost to the children behind them waving and yelling goodbye back.

Turning, he saw that Vos was waving as well.

He motioned for the padawan to follow him over to one side of the area while Tera seamlessly switched to asking the Mandalorian kids friendly questions, Aayla leaning tiredly against his leg.

“Explain yourself, padawan,” said Mace, once he was sure they were out of hearing range of anyone.

“We weren’t in any danger. I read that book. They’d never hurt kids,” said Quinlan.

“That book is set thousands of years ago, Padawan Vos. The Mandalorians have a terrorist group called Death Watch who is known for not treating children well. What if you had run into one of them here?”

“Then the other Mandalorians would have protected us the same way they would any kid,” said Quinlan stubbornly. “Kiro gets to come here all the time!”

Mace sighed. “Very well, let’s say you weren’t in danger. You failed to consider the other reason we’re not sending field trips to Little Keldabe, and why Padawan Kiro is safe.”

“What?”

“ _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ doesn’t exaggerate how easily and quickly they adopt children. You at least have a Master whose permission I’d hope they’d ask, but Aayla? You’re lucky they didn’t whisk her away, or adopt her on the spot.”

Quinlan looked dismayed. “But I told them she was my future padawan!”

Well, at least he now knew why Vos had chosen this particular initiate, and that he hadn’t grabbed one at random. He wouldn’t put it past the boy.

“What makes you think they can’t adopt her, but still let you train her?” Or co-parent her, judging by how the Mandalorians seemed to assign familial relations to Jedi lineages.

“Chuba!” said Vos.

“Language, padawan.”

“Okay, so this wasn’t the best of my ideas. I won’t bring Aayla next time.”

Force give him strength. “You won’t have a lot of free time for a while, what with needing to translate the Lothal Agricultural Papyri.” Hopefully, that would keep him occupied long enough for Tholme to return from his mission.

Quinlan groaned. “Not again.”

++++++

They were just getting in the air taxi and making their escape from the ever present stares of the Mandalorians, when one of them approached. Mace handed a dozing Aayla off to Quinlan and motioned for him to get inside the airspeeder.

The Mandalorian had their helmet off, but had orange armor with white highlights. “Excuse me, Jetii, Armorer Sutra requests the presence of a Jetii to discuss our ade.” Armorer’s had only been mentioned in passing in _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_ , but it was obvious from how they were spoken of and quoted in Mandalorian news and historical sources that they held some sort of power in Mandalorian society. Mace also didn’t mind another excuse to keep him far away from council meetings for a bit longer, even if this was likely to bring up even more issues the Council needed to address regarding the Mandalorians. 

He made eye contact with Tera who was inside the transport, and the elder master nodded. He’d get Quinlan and Aayla home to the temple, and get Quinlan started on his translation punishment.

Mace bowed to the Mandalorian. “Please lead the way.” He noted that a lot of the surrounding Mandalorians went back to what they’d been doing before staring at the Jedi. Apparently, the summons by the Armorer took precedent over their aggressive admiration.

The Armorer was inside a room which had steps leading down to a pedestal with controls on one side. Positioned above the plinth was the ion engine from some sort of small craft. It was currently on and melting what Mace guessed was beskar. Rather than distract them from their task, Mace politely studied the rest of the room.

Mandalorian armor, some covered in old paint and blaster scars, some new and gleaming in the light from the engine glow, stood against the walls. One bench held multiple examples of different types of vambraces. Another held pauldrons of various sizes and shapes. Along one wall was a mural, or rather, a mosaic; different shaped flat pieces of metal tinged in different colors, were interlocked together to show a scene of a rearing mythosaur fighting against ancient Mandalorians. It was a beautiful piece.

Behind him, the engine shut off and more natural light gradually flooded the room. Mace turned to find Armorer Sutra studying what they had created. It was a pair of lower leg pieces; Mace believed they were called greaves. He took the opportunity to study the Armorer in return.

They had brown skin and barred arms; one arm gleamed with muscles and sweat while the other was made of beskar and iron. A heavy, fireproof apron covered their front half, though Mace could see the shine of armor underneath. Their helmet was gold and silver. It seemed to be a slightly different style from the ones Mace was used to seeing. The dark iron of the inner parts of their arm was covered by a flowing mosaic of beskar figures of animals locked in battle with each other. It was a bit mesmerizing how they all interlocked together without interfering in the arm’s movement.

“Your arm is beautiful,” said Mace sincerely when he realized he had been looking a bit too long.

He was studied for a long moment, as if they were judging his sincerity, before they nodded. “Thank you. I’m Armorer Kurtos Sutra. Ze/zir.”

Mace bowed. “Armorer Sutra, I am Jedi Master Mace Windu. He/him. How can I help you?”

“I have been asked by Padawan Kiro’s buir to plan their verd’goten, but I felt it prudent to consult with a Jetii. Their Jetii buir hasn’t been here since their request so I thought I’d take the opportunity with so many Jetii appearing today.”

“Verd’goten?” asked Mace. The word sounded familiar considering how much Mandalorian culture he’d learned in the past several days, but he couldn’t place it.

“Warrior… to be born to…” Ze sounded like ze was trying to translate the word directly into Standard, but Mace thought he got the idea.

“It’s a coming of age ritual for Mandalorian warriors?”

The Armorer inclined zir head. “Not a ritual, but yes, a test for ade to prove they are ready to be Mandalorian warriors.”

“What does the test usually entail?”

“It varies greatly, but is a test of their skill as a warrior. They might be tasked with defeating another warrior in combat, retrieving a hard to obtain item, or much harder, finding themselves.”

Mace smiled. “Sounds like when we send the initiates to find their lightsaber crystals. Or the solo missions for senior padawans.”

“Our cultures have a lot more similarities than differences,” ze said. Mace could hear the smile in zir voice.

It was evening now and Mace decided to take a gamble. Zir arms, both the real and metal one, were very attractive, and Mace had a fondness for artists. “Perhaps we can discuss this somewhere more private? Over dinner?”

“I had no ulterior motive inviting you here,” ze said, but ze sounded hopeful.

“I know,” said Mace because the Force had confirmed it. “But I hope that doesn’t prevent me from wanting to get to know you more.” It had been several days since he’d been without a headache from all the shatterpoints, but right now, his head was clear and pain free. He was going to take the opportunity to enjoy himself.

“It doesn’t,” said Sutra. Ze began to efficiently clear their workspace. “How do you feel about tiingilar?”


	40. Jaster 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jaster is dismayed by how thirsty his verd'e are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It sure has been a week for me. Turns out my computer is dead and needs to be rebuilt. So... that will be "fun", especially since I've never done it before. *sigh*
> 
> Thank you to all my reviewers. You make me smile:) Next few chapters are mostly written so they should come out a bit faster than this one. We'll be back with Mace for Qui-gon's return to the temple...
> 
> Timeline: this chapter takes place same day as Quinlan's adventure to Little Keldabe, and starts about a half hour after Feemor's last chapter ended. 
> 
> I've linked Jaster's first mention of his tonfa so you guys can see what they look like. I've fought with them once, and I think they'd be better than a spear against a lightsaber. Oh, and fun fact, Jyn Erso used a collapsible tonfa in Rogue One, so they're a canon weapon:)
> 
> I am picturing null g-balls as being floating, multi-colored ping pong balls:D

Jaster had been a bit giddy after watching Fay expertly handle the Jedi Council. Master Yoda had made a sad picture with his ears drooping, but the di’kut deserved it for using an ad to try to save an adult who _should_ have been in therapy years ago. He’d also recorded the whole thing since Fay had used the True Mandalorian’s command center for the call. It would be impolitic to release it to the public, but he was sure Yan would get a kick out of it.

Fay had wanted to check on Obi-wan then, so Jaster accompanied her, taking the opportunity to ask if she had ever met Tarre Vizsla. Unfortunately, she had only seen him from afar at a bar on a mission. He wore a cloak over his armor, but she did note that he seemed to have gotten around the beskar muffling the Force issue by having a buy’ce with the visor missing; enough that you could see most of his face (which agreed with the statue of him here on Mandalore). The accents on the helmet were blue on black with the Order symbol picked out in white. Jaster wondered if that’s where the Vizsla Clan’s use of blue and black started, then nearly facepalmed as he realized that the Clan Vizsla sigil, picked out on the crest of their leader’s buy’ce, was a corrupted version of the Jedi Order’s symbol. If only he was on good enough terms with a Vizsla historian to rub that in their faces!

They arrived at the small courtyard where Jango and Obi-wan were training to find that they had switched from blaster practice to beskad practice. Jango had one of the blunted training beskad and was copying a kata that Obi-wan was slowly working his way through. Jaster was a bit amused because this was the first time he’d ever seen Jango express an interest in using a beskad; Jaster always had to use another verd if he wanted to practice against one.

As it was, this little demonstration made him itch to grab the beskar [tonfa](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tonfa) he’d had made several years ago. It was a weapon he’d used as a Journeyman Protector on Concord Dawn since the lack of edges made it good for defending people without killing your opponent. As Mand’alor, it wasn’t inconceivable that he’d be facing either a beskad or a lightsaber in battle. If the Darksaber ever surfaced again, Jaster was guaranteed to have to fight for the right to wield it, so he had two tonfa made in solid beskar, and practiced with them regularly. If Clan Vizsla still had it (and he suspected they did considering Death Watch claimed Tor Vizsla was Mand’alor), they were in for a surprise if the hut’uun ever faced him in battle.

Come to think of it, he should take advantage of Yan and the other Jetii’s presence and get some practice against lightsabers…

Holdan Lla was leaning against the support pillar on the edge of the courtyard, watching Jan’ika and his ad. Jaster gave him a nod. He was rather impressed by how Lla had distinguished himself recently. He was a solid verd when they were out on missions, usually taking point in scouting, but Jaster had always found him quiet. Now the verd’e were calling him something of a Jetii whisperer what with him scoring both a Jetii adoption and a Jetii in his bed. Case in point: Fay casually went over to Lla and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek in greeting.

Lla better sleep with one eye open if he ever went back to staying in the barracks though, Jaster thought with a smirk. The verd’e weren’t above taking out their petty jealously through pranks. He had heard through the usual gossip channels that some verd’e had gotten Briila Corrtel drunk before they snuck in her ship and filled it with a ridiculous number of null g-balls. He imagined she was going to be finding them in odd places on her ship for the next few years.

Fay went to join Obi-wan and Jango, offering to teach them a weaponless kata. Jaster was watching with interest when Lla wandered over.

“Alor.”

“Lla. Quite the ad you’ve got.”

“I know. He’s going to cause me so much trouble,” said Lla fondly.

Jaster chuckled. At least Lla wasn’t 100% caught up in the new buir haze, and acknowledged that parenting could be rough some days. Jango had been a total brat for _years_ after Jaster took him in, but Jaster wouldn’t have given him up for all the beskar on Concordia.

“Your clan head has refused it, but if you need any help, please ask,” he said.

“I will, alor. I’m not one of those stubborn di’kut who refuses to ask for help when they need it.”

Jaster nodded in acknowledgement. Lla _had_ contacted him about the situation on Bandomeer after all, but he wanted to make the offer explicit. These early cases of adoption and relationships between Mandalorians and Jedi were paving the way for a more integrated future for both their cultures.

“Was Yan happy to see his bu’ad?”

“Yan? Oh, Dooku. To be honest, I’m not sure if either enjoyed their first meeting. They both acted like the conversation was a minefield.”

“First?” _What the kark?_

“Yes, that was my reaction,” said Lla with a nod. “Turns out Jinn forbid Dooku from interfering in Feemor’s apprenticeship.”

Those mind healers at the Temple had better be up to their task of rehabilitating that shabuir. Otherwise, Jaster honestly had no idea how he was going to stop some of his verd’e in the _Qui-gon Jinn Hate Squad_ from trying to kill the man if they met him. (That they had organized it like an actual squad, with ranks and assigned duties was… worrying.)

“But they never even met after Knight Feemor… graduated?” Jaster was unsure if “graduate” was the proper term.

“Didn’t seem to be the case,” said Holdan with a shrug. “It took Dooku a long moment to even recognize him.”

Jaster rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache start building. Yan had some questions to answer, starting with why he hadn’t contacted his bu’ad in the many years since the poor man became a Knight. There were only so many things you could blame on Jinn.

“They did seem much friendlier when they left. I showed Feemor where to find Aerta on my way here.”

Lla looked down at his com, and Jaster saw that his own was flashing as well.

He raised an eyebrow at the news coming from the unofficial Jetii gossip feed. The Jetii were practicing in the main courtyard? In fact, as he looked, some of the other verd’e who had been hanging about watching the training headed off, while others looked torn between staying to watch Master Fay and Ob’ika, or going to see a whole bunch of Jetii.

Jaster sighed. He had better go see what was going on.

“You coming, Lla?”

The man shook his head. “It’s almost lunchtime. Obi-wan needs to eat.” Jaster gave him a slap on the back in understanding before heading out.

Their main training courtyard was twice the size of any of the others with space for blaster and jetpack practice as well as hand to hand and other weapons training. It was the same courtyard his office looked down on, though a glance around showed the “contest” for Knight Feemor’s attention had finally ended. Jaster wondered how many credits Aerta had made.

His verd’e were in a crowd around an oval of clear space in the center of the yard. Jaster elbowed one of his verd to get them to move. They didn’t seem to notice it was their Mand’alor doing so, but they moved out of the way, buy’ce faced forward the entire time.

In the clear oval, the Jetii knights and Yan stood about a meter apart. Yan had on a stylish, tight fitting brown-orange tunic. Was it Jaster’s imagination, or were his trousers also much tighter than normal as well? The four Jetii were all moving synchronically through a complicated lightsaber kata, and at three times the speed he’d seen Obi-wan and Jango several minutes before. The unifying hum of their lightsabers sent a deep thrill through Jaster.

Knight Triyan (who Jaster rather thought he owed a medal to for the way they were joyfully sleeping their way through so many of his verd’e) had the Jetii under robes practically falling off their body; a deep V gaped open showing toned muscles with every move. Knight Legro was more covered up, as most Mirialan’s preferred, but his long black hair was wrapped up in a high tail that almost flowed around him as he moved. Knight Xha-Lon wore Jetii tunics without sleeves, showing off some very shapely upper arms, though the shimmer to zir skin in the sunlight made Jaster wonder what zir species was.

As the word spread of the Jetii’s practice, Jaster saw more than one verd’e skid to a stop in the courtyard, turn whichever color was common to blushes for their species then jam on their buy’ce to hide their expression as they joined the crowd.

Jaster shook his head; his people were ridiculous. Much as he was enjoying the show, he had to get back to work. He elbowed his way back out of the crowd. Jaster was about half way to his office when Aerta Kryze came hurrying over to him.

“Mand’alor!”

“What is it?”

“Feemor’s disappeared!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I gave him the data, then left him talking to some verd’e while Kryten grabbed his pack.” Kryten was the verd she suggested (and Jaster approved) to accompany Feemor on his mission. Kryten was older than Jaster and widowed so he wouldn’t bother the young Jedi Knight romantically, and he specialized in undercover security and bodyguarding; a perfect addition to the Knight’s mission. “When I came back, the verd’e were under the impression he’d gone to the fresher, but I didn’t find him there either. He’s either run or been kidnapped.”

“Check the security footage,” Jaster ordered. He hoped no one was capable of kidnapping a Jetii right under their noses. Maybe one of the verd’e Kryze had left him with gotten too fresh and the Knight was hiding?

He eyed the crowd around the Jetii practice, their blue and green blades flashing above the heads of the crowd periodically.

“Here!” Aerta thrust her pad under his nose. Feemor was at the far end of a corridor along the eastern wall. He checked no one else was in sight before crouching and simply leaping, right up over the compound walls.

Karking Force osik. And speaking of which, Jaster now realized the purpose of this little lightsaber display. He glared over at Yan, who was tall enough that his head was mostly visible above the crowd. The Jetii purposely seemed to be avoiding his gaze.

“Tell Kryten to get moving after him.” Maybe he could catch Feemor before he left the planet, but considering this little display had been going on for a half hour or more, Jaster doubted it. In fact, as he watched, the Jedi all came together as one, held their lightsabers in front of their faces, extinguished them, then bowed to their watchers.

There were quite a few cheers and banging of fists on nearby armor in appreciation. Xha-Lon was engulfed in a hug by the two verd’e ze was in a relationship with, while a bunch more crowded closely around Knight Triyan.

This time, his verd’e noticed him when he approached, and parted to let their Mand’alor through.

“Master Dooku, would you mind being my partner in a private spar?” Jaster hoped he kept the anger out of his tone. His verd’e would think they were going somewhere to kark after the Jetii’s display.

The tall Jedi nodded and began to follow him. Jaster marched towards his and Jango’s private quarters which had a shielded courtyard they could use to fight.

Once there, he grabbed his tonfa from the weapons rack near the door and fit them in a reverse grip against his forearms. “Let’s go!”

Yan just stood there. “I prefer my spars to be less filled with anger.”

Jaster laughed. “And I would prefer to work through my anger in a spar.”

Yan drew himself up to his full, impressive height. “I realize you are upset that Knight Feemor has disappeared. I take full responsibility for encouraging him in his plan, but I believe he was surprised by how much attention he drew on Mandalore, and he did not wish to be hounded throughout his mission.”

“Well, he sure chose the wrong method for that,” said Jaster sardonically.

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“Yan, half of my people are bounty hunters. Not only do they enjoy a chase, but they’re good at what they do. Instead of the one verd I assigned him, he probably has dozens on his tail now.”

Yan’s eyes widened in dismay before he rallied. “I’m sure Knight Feemor will still manage to evade them.”

“I hope he doesn’t,” said Jaster flatly. “I was sending a verd with him so he’d have someone who could provide or call for backup if, say, Death Watch sends an entire squad to kill the author of the Book. I don’t understand why you Jetii send your people into battle without the backup they need!”

“Knight Feemor is capable, and sometimes the Senate leaves no choice.”

“But you don’t know, do you? You just karking met him for the first time today so how can you know if he’s got the skills to defeat an entire squad of Death Watch _and_ keep a person he’s protecting alive? You had at least twenty knights on Galidraan, but what if it had only been you? Would you have fared so well?”

“I’m the best duelist in the Order,” said Yan, his face made of stone.

Jaster gestured at the weapons lock box up against the wall. “Do you want to see how many slug throwers you can block in a duel?”

For a moment, anger flashed on the man’s face. “Your point, and sarcasm, are noted.” Yan took a deep breath, probably drawing on the Force to calm down. He breathed a few more times before saying, “You are angry with me, not Feemor.”

“Yes, I am. It never even occurred to me when I sent Feemor to you, that you hadn’t even met him.” And that was the heart of the matter. Yan’s entire aliit was messed up from Yoda to Jinn. Jaster was worried, and wondered if he could trust his people’s reports that other Jetii didn’t have these problems.

Yan sighed. “By all accounts, Feemor was on good terms with Qui-gon after his knighting, so I told myself not to interfere. I was sure he would prefer his master to his grandmaster. There are any number of excuses I could offer for why I didn’t contact him after Qui-gon repudiated him, but meeting him today showed me I was… wrong to let those excuses keep me from getting to know my grandpadawan.”

Jaster felt his anger cool a little. At least the man knew he’d made a mistake.

Yan seemed to have sensed it. “Now if you promise not to shoot me, we can spar.”

++++++

Jaster settled in to the private com at the desk in his quarters, rather than his office; this com call was for him, not the Mand’alor.

“Thank you for taking the time to speak to me, Madame Nu. I’ve enjoyed our correspondence so far.”

The stern looking woman smiled at him. “Please call me Jocasta, Mand’alor.”

“Then, I’m Jaster.” He gave her his best smile.

“Jaster, then. Let’s see what puzzle pieces on Tarre Vizsla we can fill in.”

What followed was a delightful two hours of discussion, trying to put together disparate sources and divine rumor from fact. For example, Jocasta had filled in lots of details on Tarre’s early life in the temple; they knew who his master was and even had a tale of one of his missions as a Jedi Knight from a holocron of one of his contemporaries. They had an apocryphal story on how he had found the crystal for the Darksaber which both of them reluctantly decided was too far-fetched to be taken seriously (that the spirits of Mandalore had gifted him the crystal during his verd’goten would be quite hard considering there was no kyber on the entire planet). Jaster knew that Tarre had had ade, but none of the records could agree on how many. Clan Vizsla might possibly have better info, but nobody in their clan was close enough to Jaster to share it.

“I should let you go, Jocasta, it’s even later for you than for me here,” said Jaster reluctantly when they had passed the two hour mark. Jocasta looked tired. He was pretty sure they could talk all night, but he’d hate himself in the morning. He yawned at the very thought.

Jocasta seemed dismayed. “This is so much more enjoyable than my other research project at the moment,” she admitted.

“The no attachment research?”

She nodded. “That report is mostly finished, but it has opened up another line of research which is… disturbing. I’m bringing it before the Council tomorrow, and I doubt they will thank me.”

“Do you want to discuss it?” he asked.

“Not until after I inform the Council,” she said with a grimace, then changed the subject. “How has Yan been?”

“I’m a bit angry with him right now,” admitted Jaster.

“Oh? About what?”

“He hadn’t even met his grandpadawan! I know some of that is to blame on Jinn, but I hope this isn’t normal for Jedi aliit.” Their discussion and spar this afternoon, and watching the take down of Yoda by Fay earlier had taken away much of his anger, but it still worried him.

“I have had four official padawans, and taken several others under my wing in my time. I keep up with all their research, and check in on them and my grandpadawans regularly,” said Jocasta. “Most Jedi lineages are quite close with regular meals and keeping in touch. I’m not sure what is wrong with Yoda’s current lineage, but they are not representative of the Order as a whole, I assure you.”

“I’m relieved to hear it.”

“And if you’re still angry with him, you can try sleeping with him. We ended many an argument that way when we were younger.”

Jaster was glad he wasn’t drinking so he didn’t choke on anything other than air. “We’re not…” He trailed off, unsure if she knew about his and Yan’s deception.

“Not actually in a relationship, I know.” She looked amused. “But sex is a healthy way to work out frustrations. And Yan is easy – just ask him if he wants to have sex as friends, and if he says yes, you’re good to go.”

Jaster couldn’t help himself; she was so competent and intelligent. “And are you similarly easy to get in bed?” he asked in a low voice.

She smirked at him. “Oh, I’m much more complicated, and demanding, but you’ve made a good start. Take care, Jaster.”

“You too, Jocasta.”

Jaster just sat there for a moment, then took his half aroused body to the fresher for a late night shower, thoughts of both Jetii crowding his mind in the process.


	41. Mace 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Qui-gon Jinn arrives back at the Temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who rebuilt her computer successfully?:D It's so nice to be back on my desktop! I can view two docs side by side again!
> 
> Thank you all to my wonderful reviewers! I've been having a lot of fun talking to you in comments:) I have updated the excerpts from The Mandalorian's Dilemma today as well so check there if you want to know where recent excerpts went chronologically. I'm also writing some short scenes which either don't fit into the main plot or are AUs so those will probably be up at some point as a third story in this series. 
> 
> Aspoonie500 has written [a very funny little fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29164293?view_full_work=true) focusing on the actions of the Qui-gon Jinn Hate Squad. It makes a good chaser to this chapter lol
> 
> Next chapter will be Plo Koon:)

Mace had had a wonderful evening in Little Keldabe. He’d been fascinated to discover over dinner that an Armorer’s role in Mandalorian society was largely similar to a council member’s. They mediated cultural issues the Mand’alor and clan leaders couldn’t (or didn’t) deal with, and that often involved sending the Mandalorians off on an assigned task i.e. a mission, then judging the results of that task when it had been completed.

Kurtos had also been an excellent bed partner, and Mace had enjoyed giving as good as he got. The only thing he regretted was that he’d gotten very little sleep the night before, and he now had to deal with Qui-gon Jinn, who had finally made his way back to the Temple.

Mace’s first thought upon seeing Qui-gon standing in front of the Council was that he really needed a haircut; several sections of his hair were shorter than others. His second was that the deceptively calm Jedi Master was spoiling for a fight.

This was, unfortunately, not all that unusual for Qui-gon Jinn when facing the Council since they were often asking him pertinent questions like, “Why are we paying for rebuilding half of a church?” and “Is there a reason you gifted a prince with a dangerous animal that has now mauled a servant?”

The truth of the matter was that while Qui-gon was an excellent Jedi in terms of completing missions, he was horrible with interpersonal relationships. Mace suspected the only reason he did so well as a diplomat was because the people he helped didn’t have to spend much time with him, so they never saw through his charm and politeness to the stubborn, independent core underneath.

The Council had all sorts of opinions on the issue of Qui-gon Jinn. Tyvokka had loudly and publically been calling Qui-gon a grey Jedi and saying he didn’t even belong in the Order for years. Yoda, meanwhile, treated each of Qui-gon’s sparsely written mission reports as if it were some sort of game where he would ask questions to see if he could get Qui-gon to admit the things which they all knew had happened, but he hadn’t written down. Tera Sinube called Qui-gon “The Hasty Master” in private, but never said much in actual meetings with the man. Mace knew that he, Adi Gallia, Yaddle and Ki-Adi Mundi all shared similar opinions on Qui-gon Jinn due to the fact that they all had been on missions with the man at one point or another. Notably, they had all, politely, let it be known that they didn’t wish to work with Qui-gon on a mission ever again barring emergencies.

Mace had been a Knight for barely a year when he was sent on a mission with Qui-gon to act as diplomatic liaisons during a planet’s worldwide athletic completion. Qui-gon had used a loop-hole in the rules to sign Mace up for the competition, throwing him into the spotlight so that Qui-gon could infiltrate the gambling dens and discover a conspiracy to drug certain athletes and rig the bets. While it had all worked out in the end, Mace had had to do a lot of meditation to release his anger into the Force. Qui-gon could have explained the plan to him – he’d had plenty of opportunity! – and Mace would likely have agreed to it, even if it was a bit outside their remit as diplomatic liaisons. But the Master had not even kept in touch with him while Mace was thrown into the thick of it, and the only answer he’d given Mace for why he didn’t keep him informed was that it was the will of the Force.

Bantha shit. Qui-gon hadn’t talked to Mace because he didn’t want Mace to object to his plan.

Mace was sure the other councilors who refused to work with Qui-gon had similar stories, though he had only heard Adi’s.

“Read your report, we have,” began Yoda. “Mention Obi-wan being sold into slavery, it does not.” He was going right to the heart of the matter, it seems. Qui-gon seemed surprised at the opening salvo as well.

“Initiate Kenobi wasn’t part of my mission. I kept an eye on him as a courtesy, but he should have been focusing on his AgriCorps posting. When he did go missing, I was informed, but the Force led me to investigate Xanatos and I trusted that would lead to the initiate eventually. Since he was rescued by Master Fay, it should be in her report.” Mace was sure that Qui-gon was aware that the decision had been made by the Council, many centuries ago, that any of Fay’s missions assigned by the Force didn’t require mission reports unless they requested them.

Unfortunately for Qui-gon, they had. She had submitted it while en route to Mandalore.

“Yes, we have her report. Along with complaints of the Mandalorians involved,” said Tyvokka, sounding just a tad smug.

“Protocol should have had you reporting that an AgriCorps member was missing immediately,” interjected Ki-Adi, who was always a stickler for the rules.

“I was busy investigating, and had just given a report to Master Yoda,” said Qui-gon stiffly. “It would have wasted precious time to com him back, but I apologize for the lapse.”

“Busy investigating Xanatos, you were?” asked Yaddle, her voice neutral.

“Yes, exactly.”

“And your reason for not bothering to visit the site of Obi-wan’s abduction?” asked Tera.

“Xanatos was obviously involved. Once I found him in possession of Obi-wan’s lightsaber, I planned to go investigate, but Master Fay intercepted me and informed me there was no need.”

Poli Dapatian’s sigh was loud through his respirator. “This is the reason the Mandalorians are angry with us. You left a child enslaved for three days.”

“They are angry because I didn’t investigate Obi-wan’s disappearance fast enough?” Qui-gon sounded genuinely puzzled. He had, predictably, not read the book as ordered, it seemed. Though considering how rarely the man checked his coms, he possibly hadn’t even seen it.

“Recent interactions with the Mandalorians have shown they hold children more important than we had ever realized,” Adi was kind enough to explain. “They view your treatment of Obi-wan, and ours by extension, as deplorable.”

“He wasn’t my mission!” Qui-gon’s glare was directed at Yoda, rather rightfully in this case. “That he didn’t have an escort to his assignment was hardly my fault. I went out of my way to provide him some guidance since the situation on the ship to Bandomeer was volatile, but he wasn’t my responsibility once we reached planetside.”

“Kenobi is underage by both Jedi and Mandalorian standards,” explained Oppo. “They are accusing us of not treating a child under our care properly.” He gave a hiss of disappointment. “And I believe they are correct.” The Council of Reassignment and Master Warresha’s recommendation for the removal of Yoda and El-Mem from Squall Clan leadership had been delivered, though the Council had yet to address it. Mace wondered how that would go now that Yoda had been taken to task by Master Fay. It was yet another of the multiple issues the Council needed to deal with.

Mace’s headache was back.

“We are dealing with the mistakes made on the Temple’s part, Master Jinn. It was your duty as a Jedi when you saw the cub was not properly escorted, to take care of him. He is a member of our Order, and deserves our protection,” declared Tyvokka. “And yet it’s clear from both the Mandalorian’s and Obi-wan’s reports that you talked to him only when forced to, and didn’t make him your priority at any point. Even after you discovered that you had been brought to Bandomeer on a pretense and your original mission was no longer applicable.”

“I thought it would be cruel to give him hope that I would choose him,” admitted Qui-gon.

“Your right, it was, not to choose him,” said Yaddle.

“But why didn’t your report mention the remarkable skills the cub displayed over the course of the trip so that Kenobi might be considered by another master?” That was a good point on Tyvokka’s part. If Mace had been in Qui-gon’s situation, he’d have sent an inquiry to the Temple immediately about why such a promising initiate had been sent to the Corps.

Qui-gon shook his head. “The boy is full of anger, and will not make it as a Jedi. He will fall.”

“Told you that, the Force did? Or your fears?” asked Yoda sadly.

Qui-gon’s eyes blazed with anger. “Xanatos– ”

“Xanatos has nothing to do with Obi-wan Kenobi,” interrupted Mace. “Or at least he didn’t until Xanatos kidnapped him and sold him into slavery.” He didn’t trust Qui-gon’s assessment at this point. Nor did he trust Kenobi’s file now that the bullying and problems with El-Mem and Yoda’s leadership of Squall Clan had been uncovered. That was the reason they had once again tabled the debate on who should be assigned the boy’s master after Fay’s threat; no one in the temple had an accurate assessment of Obi-wan Kenobi.

Actually, there was one being in the Temple who possibly knew, a being who had sat silent and brooding after Master Fay’s call.

“Obi-wan’s anger. Aimed at injustice it is,” admitted Yoda. “Not unusual that is for a youngling.” Not for adult Jedi either. Mace certainly struggled with it even now. “Great Jedi, Obi-wan will become. This I have seen. Too old am I for a padawan, or take him I would.” Not to mention he’d have to step down from the Council until Obi-wan was a Senior Padawan. It wasn’t fair to the padawan to have their Master’s attention split between the council and their training.

Yoda looked directly into Qui-gon’s eyes. “Good for you, he would have been, but that path, closed now, it is. Mandalorian Jedi he will be.”

“Mandalorian?” asked Qui-gon. “My understanding was that Master Dooku was with the Mand’alor on a mission that went wrong?” No doubt Dooku had sent a com to his former padawan to express his displeasure. 

“Much has happened in past days regarding the Mandalorians,” said Even Piell. “The Council doesn’t have the time to brief you, but you can start by reading the book that was _accidently_ sent out to all Jedi two days ago.” Yareel Poof was pretending to be very interested in a spot on the ceiling.

“In the meantime, we have been forced to make some diplomatic amends in order to avoid an incident,” said Oppo. “One of those amends is that you are required to meet regularly with a mind healer here in the Temple until you are cleared by both the mind healer and Master T’ra Saa. Until you are cleared, you are not to go on any missions, and we strongly recommend you avoid all Mandalorians.”

“To clarify,” said Qui-gon stiffly. “You’re grounding me here at the Temple in order to placate the Mandalorians. I can understand diplomatic needs, and am happy to lay low, but I don’t need a mind healer.”

“There are very few beings in the galaxy who wouldn’t benefit from talking to a mind healer occasionally,” said Tera in a deceptively mild voice. “Are you arrogant enough to claim to be one of them?”

Qui-gon was caught. If he answered yes, he was arrogant. If he answered no, then he was admitting to needing help. “No, Master Sinube,” he reluctantly said.

“Visit the mind healers often, we all do,” said Yaddle gently. Mace and many other council members nodded their agreement.

“And if you truly aren’t in need of a mind healer, you’ll be cleared quickly,” said Tera jovially. Mace had spent enough time around the Cosian Master by now to recognize it was a fake tone. None of them expected Qui-gon to be cleared for active duty for a while. Despite many suggestions that he go to the mind healers after Xanatos’ fall, Qui-gon had never gone. The fact that he ignored the well-being of a child during this mission in favor of focusing on Xanatos showed the Master was in need of mental counsel. Qui-gon had used to be the first person in front of the Council arguing for helping beings in need of Jedi aide.

“And what of Xanatos’ reappearance?” asked Qui-gon, almost as if on cue.

“A Republic arrest warrant has been issued for his crimes on Bandomeer. If the Jedi are asked to apprehend him, we will have the team talk to you before they go,” said Tyvokka.

“I should be with them! They’ll have no idea how Xanatos thinks.”

“That is why you will brief them before they go,” said Tyvokka impatiently. The Wookie hated having to repeat himself. “Master Fay’s report said Xanatos’ motivation was revenge on you, so why would we give him the satisfaction of sending you where he gets an opportunity to attack you again?” Yet another key detail Qui-gon had left out of his report. Honestly, maybe they could get him to attend a writing class for senior padawans while he was temple bound?

Qui-gon Jinn was frowning at Tyvokka, before he swallowed down the negative emotion, and his face returned to the more typical Jedi calm. “If that is all, Masters?” Normally, they would have to interrogate Qui-gon further since his reports left much to be desired, but here they had three other sources of information: Master Fay’s and the Mandalorians reports and complaints, plus the debriefing of Obi-wan Kenobi conducted by Master Dooku.

“You are dismissed, Master Jinn,” said Tyvokka. “Master T’ra Saa will contact you.”

++++++

_““Dark side? What does that even mean?”_

_“Darksiders. Or Sith perhaps.”_

_“Dar’jetti?”_

_“What does *that* mean?” asked Hiam, a hint of teasing in his tone._

_“Uh, ‘not Jedi’,” said Naured after a moment’s thought. “Just like dar’manda is ‘not Mandalorian’. But we usually use it specifically for Sith, I think.” His clan hadn’t been involved with any dar’jetti before, but they had alliances with clans who had._

_“Well, both definitions would have fit how that place felt.””_


	42. Plo Koon 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Plo arrives on Mandalore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to all my reviewers. You're all awesome:)
> 
> In case any of you haven't seen it, I've been celebrating Jangobi Week 2021 by writing my own fic which can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29230557?view_full_work=true). 
> 
> I watched the first five eps of Clone Wars with the New Mandalorians in prep for this and future Plo Koon chapters. I feel like I should get a reward or something 'cause if you know anything about Mandalorian culture, the New Mandalorians suck. They really don't have a single POC or alien species in Sundari, and they say they've exiled all the aggressive Mandalorians to Concordia. What do you want to bet that that included all the POCs and non-humans?:( If Death Watch hadn't already existed, I'd have expected some sort of group against the New Mandos to have formed right then and there. 
> 
> I drew an art for this chapter because everyone needs chibi Mandos:)
> 
> Next chapter will be Mace's pov of Jocasta's report to the Council.

Plo ended up arriving at Keldabe during the middle of the night cycle. When he exited his ship, he was met by a single Mandalorian who led him to an airlocked room. There were bunks along the walls, enough to fit six beings total, and controls which allowed him to flood the room with his preferred mix of gasses. Next to the controls, someone had drawn some cartoonish versions of various non-oxygen breathing races with little speech bubbles saying their optimal atmosphere settings.

Plo appreciated being able to spend the night not wearing his eye guards and respirator.

The next day, he was awakened by a knocking on the airlock door. A quiet Mandalorian led him to meet the Mand’alor in his office.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay,” said the Mand’alor. Plo could do nothing more than sip at some tea called shig through his mask, but the thought was appreciated.

“Indeed, Mand’alor. I appreciate the accommodations. Though I was not aware you required visiting sentients to list their romantic and sexual preferences to better accommodate them.”

“Haar’chak,” muttered the Mand’alor. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment. “I apologize for the forwardness of my verd, Master Koon. If you give me their armor description or name - if they gave it to you, I’ll make sure they’re reprimanded.”

“I was not offended,” said Plo. In fact, he was amused. “I take it this has been an ongoing issue, Mand’alor.”

“Please call me Jaster.”

“Then you may call me Plo.”

“And yes. It’s ridiculous the lengths that some of my people are going to. The trouble is that sometimes it works and sometimes it sends the Jedi running for the hills. I’m pretty sure they haven’t even caught up to Master Antilles yet. And that’s not even mentioning Knight Feemor.”

“Jon Antilles?” Plo didn’t know a knight named Feemor.

“You know him?” asked Jaster.

“Only by reputation,” said Plo. He’d also been sure the man was dead. Though then again, with such a common name as Jon Antilles, maybe there was just a long line of obscure Jedi claiming the name and never returning to the Temple to verify?

“Yes, well, he has, for lack of a better word, a fan club amongst the Mando’ade, especially those on the Outer Rim. Although he’s certainly not alone in Mandalorian admiration. They have lists and rankings for Jetii,” said Jaster with a sigh.

“The task of a leader is often to contain explosions after they have happened,” said Plo.

Jaster laughed. “Well said. Now, the name and armor of my verd. If they were leading you, then they were on duty and deserve a reprimand.”

Plo conceded a description. The Mandalorian had been young and nervous so Plo had thought to spare them from punishment, but if they were on duty, they did need a talking to.

“Now, what is it you’d like to know?” asked Jaster.

“The reports said the True Mandalorians have suffered from child abduction by Death Watch before?”

“Yes. During the height of the civil war, they would essentially wipe out a family, but take the ade with them when they did to bolster their ranks. Once those raids died down, they switched to actual abductions. They even hit Keldabe once while my verd’e were away on a mission. We got those ade back before they could go to ground, but it was a near thing. It’s been two years without a report of them stealing any children from my people so I had thought we had killed enough of them that they were not replenishing their numbers. However, we met full squads on Galidraan.” The implication was clear; Death Watch were getting their numbers from elsewhere.

“The New Mandalorians are accusing both you and Death Watch of stealing their ade,” ventured Plo, using the Mando’a word to try to soften the statement.

To his surprise, the man laughed. “They do lose ade to us, but we don’t abduct them. Tell me, if you were young and had the choice between becoming a merchant with no culture to speak of, or a warrior who gets to fly using jetpacks and be part of thousands of years of history, which would you chose?”

“You’re saying they run away to join the True Mandalorians?”

“Yes. It happens more often in aliit who have members of both the New Mandalorians and the True Mandalorians, so the ad will flee to a sympathetic ba’vodu – an uncle/aunt – or some other member of their clan who will raise them as a proper Mandalorian. There are some either neutral or True Mandalorians living in Sundari, though some of the ade have been known to make the run across the desert to Keldabe or some other small town.”

“Clan Kryze has a compound in Sundari, which the New Mandalorians claim is the capital of Mandalore, so they tend to have the most flow between the two groups. They have to deal with the New Mandalorians on Kalevala, which is Kryze’s territory anyway, so I guess they find it easier than most of the other clans. Duke Kryze, the clan head, maintains neutrality from all political affiliations. If he’s in residence, he might be someone you could talk to for a perspective other than the New Mandos.”

“What of those who don’t profess allegiance to any of the three main political groups like Duke Kryze?” Plo was curious.

“Well, in the past few months the number of True Mandalorians has tripled. Can’t imagine why,” he said sarcastically, obviously referring to the publication of _The Mandalorian’s Dilemma_. “The clan heads of the three largest clans and Houses, Kryze, Vizsla and Wren, all maintain neutrality so as to allow their members the freedom to choose. There have been rumors that that situation may change soon, but “soon” is a relative term. Lots of smaller clans follow their example. And there is House Mereel, my clan, which is growing each day. Clan Eldar, a relatively large clan of a hundred or so Mando’ade, swore their allegiance yesterday. A few more like that and House Mereel will be as large as the big three.”

“There’s smaller political groups as well. I’d class the farmers of Concordia in their own isolationist group, for example. And splinter groups from all factions, like the Children of the Watch who used to be Death Watch, but hated the way they treated children. There’s some from the True Mandalorians who don’t like aspects of my Supercommando codex as well.”

“How do Death Watch treat children?” asked Plo. It was clear that the children leaving the New Mandalorians for the True Mandalorians were doing so willingly. If Death Watch was following Mandalorian culture properly, the children they took should be safe as well.

Jaster grimaced. “Poorly. They beat and starve them. They torture the really stubborn ones until they break and can be built up with Death Watch propaganda as their foundation. If we can find the ade within a few months of their abduction, with lots of love and care and therapy, they usually recover; most Mandalorian children are too stubborn to break before then. But the ones they take young, or the ones who have been with them too long to resist? It’s been heartbreaking whenever we get them back.” Jaster was radiating despair. “Sometimes we just know it’s them from the DNA test after they commit suicide to bomb us.”

Plo put down his cup of shig, and just tried to breathe through his anger. He also strengthened his shields. Being a strong telepath had its disadvantages and one of those problems was that he often caught stray thoughts from other beings. In this case, a name: Arla. Jaster’s despair at the name was not helping Plo’s own anger about hearing of children being tortured and brainwashed.

“You and your people have my deepest sympathies,” he said, putting as much emotion into his voice as he could since most of his facial expressions were obscured by his rebreather and goggles. The files on Death Watch had mentioned that they didn’t treat their children well, but not to such an extent. Urgency to find the missing New Mandalorian children filled him. “I will do everything in my power to find the missing children.”

“Thank you, and I’m sure the New Mandalorians will thank you once the di’kute realize we aren’t stealing their ade.”

“Speaking of the New Mandalorians, I have some questions about them. Now that I know what is at stake, I’d like to get those answered and be on my way to Sundari.”

“You’re not stopping in to see Master Dooku?”

Plo shook his head. “If I had more time I would, but as it is, I need to contact the Council then be on my way. There is no time to waste.”

Jaster seemed to appreciate his urgency. “What do you want to know?”

“Have they sent any complaints to the True Mandalorians about their children going missing?”

“They started to about a year ago. I’d say about half of them, and more since the Book came out, were children who wanted to be raised more True Mandalorian. Whenever I found out that was the case, I let the New Mandos know their children are safe and simply wished to be raised elsewhere. Mandalorian law is that the child has the choice of where to live, not that the New Mandalorians acknowledge any of our laws.”

“What do they acknowledge then?” asked Plo.

“If you look back at the New Mandalorians’ beginnings, they were founded right after the Dral’Han, and were mostly made up of merchants who were off world at the time, or who lived on Kalevala, which is a sparsely populated desert world, so it was mostly spared the Dral’Han. Those merchants suddenly found themselves even wealthier in the face of people who had lost everything to the bombings. As a result, they have a strong interest in favoring merchants and corporations while preventing Mandalore from ever again being the target of the Republic. Their laws are therefore focused almost completely on helping them maintain their wealth and security, whereas most ancient Mandalorian laws would be considered civil laws.” This was obviously a topic the Mand’alor had given a lot of thought to.

“So they have no laws relating to children or family?”

“Not as far as I’m aware. They seem to follow Republic ideas of family, though they’re strangely respectful of those nobles who’ve managed to retain their titles over the years on Kalevala. Clan Kryze is one of the few to do so while also maintaining their wealth and political clout, so I think that’s how Duke Kryze manages to co-exist with them.”

“Have you met with them before?”

“Several times,” Jaster said with a grimace. “They think anyone wearing armor is a brutal barbarian and treat you like you’re a bomb about to go off.”

Jaster waved a dismissive hand. “I could deal with it if it was just that, but their abandonment of Mandalorian culture means they’ve also abandoned one of the things that makes Mandalorians unique.”

“Your armor?” wondered Plo.

“Well, yes, but besides the martial elements of our culture, they’ve also thrown out our tolerance and acceptance of those who are different. Anybody can become a Mandalorian, and our people are a mix of so many different species you should see what the DNA throws up sometimes.” He had a fond grin on his face. “We also free a lot of slaves and integrate them into our culture. We’re like a stew made up of a lot of different ingredients, both common and rare, but the New Mandalorians have slowly been reducing that stew to a few approved ingredients. You’re not going to find any accommodations for Kel Dorians in Sundari. Or for any species other than humans, for that matter. And even among humans they’re picky! I had never seen so many blonds in one place in my life until I visited Sundari.”

That was unfortunate to hear. Not that Plo cared about having proper accommodations, but he now was extremely worried for the children who didn’t fit the perfect New Mandalorian mold. What did the New Mandalorians do when a child was born with characteristics from the many species that could interbreed with humans?

“Do you know if orphanages in Sundari have been missing children?” he asked.

“Orphanages?” asked Jaster slowly, as if testing out the word. “Is that a thing for orphans?”

“It’s where orphans live while waiting to be adopted or until they age out,” explained Plo, realizing as he did that of course the Mandalorians didn’t have a word for orphanage. Their entire culture emphasized the importance of taking care of children.

Jaster seemed a bit appalled by the idea. “Yeah, we don’t have those. The only time an ad doesn’t get adopted is when they don’t want to be, or they have people who already have a claim to them who they want to return to. Sometimes a kid has a bad association with having a buir so they get lots of ba’vodu instead, or are adopted by a Clan as a whole.”

“That sounds wonderful,” said Plo, meaning each and every word. If only the rest of the galaxy took care of their children so well. “Is there anything else you think I need to know to rescue these children?”

Jaster nodded. “We’re in the middle of a campaign against Death Watch. They’ve set up at least one base on Concordia which is a maze of mining facilities and tunnels,” he said with a grimace. “If they have any of the New Mandalorian ade, they might have taken them there. My ad, Jango, is in charge of the campaign, so you will have to coordinate with him. He mentioned yesterday asking for Jetii help in finding the base, though I don’t know how that will work since the mines are all for beskar.”

That was an interesting question considering its’ muffling properties against the Force. “I would be pleased to assist in the search after I confirm that Death Watch has the New Mandalorian children.” The Force was urging him to move. “I will contact you if I have any other questions, Jaster. Thank you for your help.”


	43. Mace 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Council gets things done... for about five minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my reviewers:) Your comments make me smile, and I have a lot of fun chatting with you!
> 
> My bank of future chapters has finally been depleted, and all I have left that is written are lots of random scenes from future chapters so updates may not be as frequent for awhile while I build up the bank. Alas, real life has been a factor in the depletion. I'm glad to get this chapter out though because it's the turning point for the Jedi escaping the Sith trap they don't know they're in. I've had this chapter written for months! Enjoy:)

There was a sense of anticipation in the Force. There was a shatterpoint that was about to go off, and it was all centered on the Council, and perhaps on the being standing in the heart of the chamber.

Madame Nu stood before them, the picture of dignity in her Archivist robes. Her face was set in a grimace that did little to quell Mace’s worries about her report on the no attachment rule and the age limit rule. “In the ten years before and during the Ruusan Reformation for which we have adequate records, over one hundred Jedi turned to the dark side. There has not been such a large number of Jedi turn to the dark side over such a short period ever since.”

Mace thought he detected relief from some of his fellow councilors.

“However, the Jedi Order of the time was nearly three times larger than it was today. When adjusted for population, the rate of Jedi turning to the dark side remains steady at 1.5% of the overall population with a standard deviation of 1.2. The rate fluctuates, but statistically speaking, there was no change before and after the Ruusan Reformation, though the rate is overall higher in the first seventy-five years after the Reformation. I hypothesize this is actually due to Jedi suffering from the fallout of the Jedi-Sith War, but more research is needed.”

“I don’t understand,”Adi Gallia humbly admitted. “Does this support the no attachment rule or disprove it?”

“Neither, unfortunately. There simply hasn’t been a sustained period of war since the Ruusan Reformation. As a result, the low and fairly stable rate of Jedi turning since then may be attributable to the no attachment rule, but it may also be the natural result of Jedi no longer fighting in massive wars. It is interesting to note that there is one spike in falls to the dark side which correlates with a period of warfare and its aftermath, but there are not enough data points to make it statistically significant. Namely, The Mandalorian Excision which happened a few hundred years later.”

“For those who are not familiar with it,” she began. Mace was fairly sure most of them were familiar, but no one was going to interrupt Nu in lecture mode. “The Republic Senate authorized a task force made up of the Judicial Forces and Security Forces from various sectors to wipe out the Mandalorians. The Jedi Council of the time protested, as we would any wholesale slaughter of a people, and were excluded from the Republic’s Forces when they moved against the Mandalorian sector. Rather than risk engaging with the Mandalorians in battle, whenever possible the Republic’s Forces dropped multiple types of bombs which made the surface of many of the Mandalorian planets a barren wasteland.”

“In the aftermath, the rate of Jedi falling to the dark side rises to 4% and a cursory examination of the archives does show that those who did were often part of the Jedi sent to help the Mandalorians after the Excision.”

“I’m surprised the Mandalorians didn’t kill them,” said Saesee.

Jocasta raised an eyebrow. “Dire circumstances create strange allies. I’m sure some were killed, but now that we understand the culture a bit better, I suspect quite a few Jedi also joined the Mandalorians – the rate of Jedi leaving the Order while working the Mandalorian sector after the Excision was also quite high. We are all aware of how easy it is to be adopted into Mandalorian culture at this point.” Her tone was a touch sarcastic.

“I will leave it the Council to further debate this issue after reading my full report.” And the steely stare she sent around the room made it clear she expected them to read it in detail before even touching the topic.

“However, this report has brought to my attention an issue which needs to be addressed.”

“Surely we can deal with this other issue at another time,” said Ki-Adi Mundi. Mace appreciated his futile effort to end the already long meeting. They had taken a break for the midday meal, but had otherwise been in the council chambers since early this morning.

“I imagine,” said Jocasta drily. “That that is how this issue has gone unaddressed. To put it bluntly-“ Mace had to stifle a smile since she did little else. “The Jedi are dying out. We have Masters and Knights dying on missions or going missing at rates which are not being replaced by new Knights and Masters. This is an issue which should have been dealt with since the time it became clear there were not enough available Masters and Knights to take on all our initiates. I have searched the Council records from 50 years ago and the decision to send off Initiates to the Corps at thirteen is also because their numbers are falling. Nor has that measure helped either the Corps, or our numbers rise.”

They were Jedi, so there were no outbursts of disbelief or cries of dismay, but the Force carried a heavy hint of sorrow and even fear.

“There is more,” said Jocasta grimly. “I recruited Master Tahl to compare the incoming Senate recommendations with the resulting missions, especially those resulting in Jedi casualties. She started with Galidraan and is working her way backwards. So far she is only twenty years back, but the results are striking. Key information is being left out of the Senate reports which often results in us not sending the proper teams; a lone Master instead of a Master and a few Knights. Some of that is related to our falling numbers, but if we knew the situation was worse, we would at least _consider_ sending more people. Galdiraan is, in fact, peculiar in the sense that the Senate suggested we send many more Jedi than were actually needed. Every other case, they recommend we send too few and it often results in death for the lone Jedi facing overwhelming odds.”

“Some examples: Master T’Moa, died holding back a volcano so people could escape. The Senate report omits any mention of seismic activity, and they requested a single Jedi to mediate disputes between villages. T’Moa’s report before her death says that she arrived to discover that the disputes were about the increasing seismic activity, and were mentioned in their request to the Senate.”

“Knight Rillin. Died so that other slaves could escape. The Senate request asked for a single Knight to investigate missing person cases on Cinuum. Knight Rillin arrived to discover that the planet’s president had requested several Jedi to help eradicate the slavery rings she knew existed in their ancient cities. Knight Rillin requested backup, but before it could arrive, he disappeared into Cinuum’s underworld. His backup found him as a slave himself, helping free slaves, but he held back escaping so others could be free.”

“These are some of the most obvious examples, but there are others which fit the pattern. And this is only in the past twenty years. The Force tells me that Tahl will find many more,” finished Jocasta grimly.

Almost as one, the Council reached out to the Force for reassurance or confirmation. The Force embraced them, and assured them that Jocasta’s results were correct, distressing as the thought was.

“We can’t trust the Senate,” said Mace flatly after several minutes, then closed his eyes against a wave of pain from a shatterpoint so large it extended past the edges of his vision. “And the Force agrees with me.”

“Why would they deliberately limit the number of Jedi being sent on missions?” asked Piell.

“Money,” said Yaddle. Many others nodded in agreement. Although the Order strived to be independent in terms of food and clothing and upkeep, they also were a burden on the Republic’s budget, no matter how negligible of a burden they were compared to say, having a standing army across the Republic.

“I agree that money is part of the Senate’s motivation, but there was obviously some malicious intervention in the Galidraan mission, either aimed at us or the Mandalorians,” said Jocasta.

“Set Shadows to investigate, we will,” said Yoda.

“And in the meantime, we must extricate ourselves from being so dependent on the Senate,” said Tyvokka. “They are sending us to die!” The Wookie usually kept his temper tightly under control, but there was anger leaking into the Force.

“How?” asked Adi Gallia. “They’re going to accuse us of wanting to be independent in order to form an army again and seize power! We know that is ridiculous, but they don’t.”

They were all silent as they considered their options.

“We start small,” said Tera Sinube. “Just as they have slowly been whittling down the Order, we will slowly withdraw from them, eh?”

“We have outreach temples, which are unoccupied or underutilized,” suggested Adi. “Some are quite large. We can detach groups of Jedi from the main temple and get them out of the way of being assigned to missions by the Senate. We can’t refuse missions, but we can tell them that we don’t have the personnel to handle them.”

“Interesting idea, that is,” said Yaddle.

“I would like to say we have the money to go independent,” said Poli Dapatian. The man was retiring from the Council soon for health reasons, but he was the designated councilor dealing with the Order’s funds. “But it’s rather complicated. We do have a large remainder fund since most years the Order operates under budget. However, those funds are held by the Senate and would either need the authorization of the Chancellor or the Council to distribute. We would essentially be viewed as robbing the Republic of funds, even though that fund has not been tapped for several centuries and, by law, can only be used by the Jedi Order.”

“And what of the gifts we get given as thanks for our work?” asked Ki-Adi.

“Those that are in credit form go either to our outreach clinics here on Coruscant, or to the Corps,” explained Poli. “Edu and Medi are always in need of more resources to provide more services to the galaxy. However, we do have a large amount of non-monetary gifts gathering dust in storage. ” Mace couldn’t really tell if the man was smiling behind his respirator, but he was radiating some satisfaction.

“We’d have to liquidate them discreetly so as not to embarrass those who gifted them,” mused Ki-Adi.

“The Shadows could do that,” suggested Tera. “I also suggest that our withdrawal from the Senate will go smoother if we can improve our image in the public eye, and hence, their senator’s eyes. I realize we have long maintained that actions should speak louder than words, but the word “Jedi” is far too entwined with “baby stealer”. Perhaps we should hire Mo’ra D’Amor to write some Jedi only novels to improve our image?” Mace glared at him, and several other Councilors’ frowned in his direction. The Cosian seemed immune.

“Our image is not something Jedi should be worrying about,” said Oppo.

“I disagree,” said Adi.

“Your point is taken, Tera,” interjected Saesee, “but can’t we do that without the romance part?” Exasperation was lacing his voice. The elderly Iktotchi master had no patience for romance novels, and had made that repeatedly clear in Council.

“Can we?” mused Tera.

Saesee opened his mouth to respond with a long and familiar discourse on how the romance novel tarnished the Jedi image. Meanwhile, Adi and Oppo were obviously having an argument using the Force to communicate. Mace sighed and settled back into his chair. They’d almost had some productive conversation there for five whole minutes.

Still, despite the pain that was pulsing around his head, the Force felt lighter. It had been unthinkable before Madame Nu’s report, but withdrawing, however slowly, from the Senate, was the right path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poli is who I headcanon Sifo Dyas taking over for on the Council, hence Sifo gaining access to the Order's funds in canon. Outreach temples are canon in Disney, in addition to the other temples which are either Legends or Disney canon (they may or may not get used in this fic. I still haven't decided if I consider the Corellian temple canon or not in this fic.)


	44. Feemor 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Feemor realizes his mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I sat down after posting the last chapter and blocked out just how many chapters were needed to finish the parts of the fic before the timeskip and it was 17+. That's, well, a lot, and I don't write chronologically, so it's a bit of a toss up each day about whether or not I'll be working on the next chapter, or several chapters in:) I'm working on getting enough written to start posting regularly again. You will all thank me when I don't keep you waiting too long on the cliffhangers;) 
> 
> In the meantime, I have started a new fic in this series which has extra scenes which didn't make it into the main fic, AUs, and humorous outtakes from the main fic. [Enjoy!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29684502/chapters/72992064)
> 
> I adore you all! <3

Feemor used the Force to swing himself up into the spaceport’s ducts. Madame Nu had left him a message while he was on the transport from Mandalore saying that one of her former students would send a transport to pick him up here. They were in hanger 70, waiting for him to arrive.

The trouble was that he’d seen _at least_ four Mandalorians just stepping off the ship. It had been pure luck that he’d been able to disembark without being spotted. But there were more lurking across the whole place port. Some seemed recently arrived from Mandalore, while others were Guild bounty hunters.

He took a moment in those dusty ducts to just press his forehead against the cool metal. Master Dooku had sent him a com as well saying he might have some Mandalorians on his tail for the “thrill of the chase”. Feemor had been hoping that wasn’t the case.

Sith hells. He should have stopped to consult the Force if this was a good idea, but he’d been so freaked out by all the sympathy and interest after the solitude of a Jedi Watchman.

Feemor took a deep breath, released his dismay to the Force, and kept moving. What was done was done.

The ductwork got him within about 20m of his destination, but he’d have to exit them to make that last distance. He checked with the Force. No one was around. Nonetheless, he used the Force to remove the grate so it wouldn’t make a sound and dropped silently to the floor.

“I think you’d have been better off traveling via the roofs,” said a modulated voice behind him. He turned.

Shit. He’d forgotten to scan deeper so he could sense past beskar.

The bounty hunter had a golden braided rope hanging from their right shoulder and a yellow-brown cape over black armor with silver accents. An enormous pulse rifle was slung over their back, and Feemor’s sharp eyes could see at least five more weapons on the bounty hunter.

“Is there a bounty out on me?” he asked, keeping his voice calm.

The bounty hunter shook their head. “Nah. Just a friendly wager among Mando’ade. One which I’m going to win.” They pulled off their com link which was attached to one of their gauntlets, then started to move towards him.

He startled, hand going to his lightsaber.

“Don’t stab me, Jetii. I just want a holo with you. Actually, you can light that up and pose with it if you want.”

Feemor stared blankly at them as they came to stand beside him, holding the com up so they could take a holo of the two of them standing next to each other.

“Sure you don’t want to pose?” teased the Mando.

“No!”

The bounty hunter chuckled. “I’ll win the bet either way. You’ve got a clear path to hanger 70 if you go within the next few minutes.”

“You all wagered to see who could catch up to me first?” wondered Feemor.

The bounty hunter nodded sharply. “Everyone was saying it would be a challenge after you gave the Haat’Mando’ade the slip, but I’m one of the best bounty hunters in the sector, and happened to be nearby. I actually have a _real_ hunt to get back to. Later, jetii.”

They stalked away. After a moment, Feemor made his cautious way to hanger 70 to catch his transport. His decisions on Mandalore had made this mission much more complicated.

It didn’t help when he reached hanger 70, and found an inconspicuously dressed person with amber skin and laugh lines around brown eyes waiting at the door.

“My briefing said you wanted to go undercover, ad’ika.” They raised one disapproving eyebrow. “This is not undercover on your part.”

Feemor sighed. “You’re the Mandalorian the Mand’alor assigned to me?”

They pulled back their long sleeves to reveal a beskar vambrace painted green. After pressing a few buttons, a display of text popped up showing they were Kryten Tosa of Clan Tosa, House Wren. In addition, they pulled out a datachip and handed it to Feemor. “These are my files and orders from the Mand’alor so you can check I’m not some rando.” The Force had already assured Feemor that they were who they said they were, but he did appreciate the thought.

“Thank you. Let’s get to the ship before anyone else spots us.”

++++++

_Jetii, or at least his Jetii, had no sense of shame about being naked in front of others it seemed. Once he had his own robes off, Hiam helped Kiri strip down to her underclothes. Naured absentmindedly started to remove his own armor, unable to tear his eyes away from Hiam’s beauty._

_The muscles in the Jetii’s arms were lean, but well defined, showing off years of martial training and also that he was rather dehydrated. Fortunately, his Jetii was sensible enough to lead Kiri over to one of the cooler pools to get a drink before they headed to a hotter one whose water was a brilliant blue._

_Naured was very glad he hadn’t managed to remove the bottom half of his under armor at that point because he’d forgotten one key thing; they didn’t have any soap. So Hiam had splashed water on his legs and was showing Kiri how to rub handfuls of sand along them. He was facing away from Naured so his back and bare shebs were visible in all their glory._

_Oh, ka’ra._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ps. Ad'ika when used on adults means "lad/lads/gal/gals". Kryten isn't calling Feemor a kid here, not that Feemor understands enough Mando'a to know one way or another.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Glitterbomb](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29164293) by [aspoonie500](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspoonie500/pseuds/aspoonie500)




End file.
